


A Light In The Dark

by GreeneySilvery



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Allusinations, Angst, Auror Harry Potter, Cutter Draco Malfoy, Depression, Draco Malfoy Need a Hug, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Forgiving Harry Potter, Friends to Lovers, Good Harry Potter, Healing, M/M, Minister for Magic Hermione Granger, Sad Draco Malfoy, Secretary Hermione Granger, Sex as a copping mechanism, Shop Manager Ron Weasley, Slow Burnt, Suicide Attempt, loving Harry potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:41:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27038116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreeneySilvery/pseuds/GreeneySilvery
Summary: Harry Potter never though his first Auror Case will be handling something as confidential as cult: The Pansies Risers Cult. What an utter rubish name. What a waste of time, trying to catch kids stealing pansies from witches garden.“Are you done now, Potter?” Parkinson asks me and I ignore her completely.“What’s Malfoy fond of?” I ask Parkinson, leeting the ward in peace and seeing how it start to heal.“He loves chocolate cake,” she says, squatting down by my side.Not even two years in Auror Academy had ever prepared me for the blood bath in the middle of this kitchen. No even the war prepared me enough to see Draco Malfoy's body mangles, bleeding and lying on a pool of his own blood.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 68
Kudos: 129





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Before The Colliding Love Series, there were something dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco's Point Of View

Rage. 

Rage is all I feel inside me, but it just lasts for a few seconds. I feel the hot tears streaming down my face and I try to dry them away. I am a Malfoy, I shouldn’t be crying. 

Malfoy’s don’t cry, I try to tell myself. I run my hand over my hair forcefully, trying to erase away the prove of my own agony. 

And then, it morphs. It morphs to an ugly monster inside me, crying, yelling, clawing. Clawing, I can feel it clawing desperately at my head. Yowling, yelling, clawing. 

Useless, the monster inside my head yell without compassion. Utterly useless. 

You are better Draco, I try to tell myself, feeling hot all over my own body. 

“Worthless, that’s what you are Draco,” I hear my father’s voice and when I look up he is there. In front of me. His skull mask firmly in place, his wand raised. “I should not have a son as weak as you. Afraid of being the best, afraid of killing, afraid of fulfilling his heritage,” he walks towards me and the only thing I can see in the darkness of this room is my father’s shinny, white, long hair. “If you just had killed Dumbledore, I would have been so proud of you, Draco. My son, doing everything to take our name to glory.” He kneels by my side. 

“Instead, you just backed up and left Severus to do all the hard work,” mother’s voice whisper against my ear. I look up to her with blurry eyes. I can feel the warm stream of water running down my cheeks. “I should have aborted you when I had the opportunity to do so,” she tells me, raising her wand. “You are an abomination, a humiliation to my family.”

I feel searing pain going through my body, starting on my chest and splitting my heart in half. I try to scream, but nothing comes out, nothing but my own gasp for air.

“I tried to do what you wanted,” I tell them, trying to make myself as little as possible. Trying to tell them. “I really tried and I am sorry I couldn’t kill Dumbledore,” I close my eyes, feeling the searing pain cut through the skin of my forearms. “I am sorry,” I choke it out of my mouth. “I am sorry,” I try again a bit harder, but I just can’t hear myself. 

My mother rake her long nails over my skin and I can feel it breaking and stinging immediately. 

“You can always do us a favor, Draco,” I hear her soft whisper. “Everything will be forgiven for us, my dragon,” she caresses my cheek with the back of her hand. “Everyone will forgive us, you just have to do one single thing, my darling,” I can feel a kiss over my forehead. 

“What I need to do?” I look at her, lifting my hand and putting away a strand of her hair. 

“You just have to do what I am about to tell you, Draco,” she tells me, raising up and sticking up her delicate hand for me to take. “Will you please me now, my darling? You just disappointed us, but all can be forgiven,” she tells me and I can see love shinning in her gray eyes. “Everything will be forgiven once you do as I tell you,” I take her hand into mine and I raise up as graceful as I can. 

“What do you want me to do?” I ask my parents. 

My father smiles up to me and his hand grip my shoulder in a lovely way. I have been waiting a lot of time to see him smile at me like this, like if he cares… Like if he can love me. Really love, as his son, not his hair. 

But I know better. I have to be a good heir, and I will be a good heir.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask them, looking at both of them. “I will do whatever you want.” 

“Even kill someone?” father asks me. 

My mother hit him in the arm. 

“Don’t be such a cruel person, Lucius,” she tells him. “Come with me, Draco,” she tells me. “We will never again ask you to kill anyone,” she whispers, guiding me to the kitchen. “We just want to make sure everything will be forgiven,” she stop in the place where is all the things to cook food in the Muggle way. I can feel my tears starting to dry and hope starting to bloom in my chest. 

“Now, you will be a Malfoy,” my father tells me, smiling a bit. “You will restore our name to its former Glory.” 

I nod, trying to please my parents. 

“Then, take this Draco,” my mother hands me a knife. “It’s magick so it will not hurt. You will restore our name to its grandeur with your blood,” she tells me. “Don’t you worry my darling. Your father and I will be here to stop your bleeding,” she caresses my cheek. “I promise, my boy, you will be soon forgiven by me, your father and the wizarding world.” She kisses my cheek. “You just have to cut in here,” she hovers her finger over my left wrist. “Run the knife from your hand to your elbow and I promise you, everything will be forgiven.” 

So, I take the knife and sink it to my wrist. 

“It doesn’t hurt,” I tell them, a smile appearing in my lips. “I will be good now. I will be a good son.” 

Father smiles to me and motion his hand for me to continue. 

“Keep going on, Draco,” he tells me. “You mother and I will be here to take care of you.” 

I nod, moving the knife up to my elbow. The blood start to rush out and down. And I can feel my mother’s arms guiding me to sit down on the floor. 

“Cissa,” my father scolds her. 

“It has to be done this way, Lucius,” she tells him with cold voice. “He will be comfortable in the floor. Besides, this is a nice carpet.” 

“More like a cheap one,” he sneered to her. “Nothing like a Malfoy should have.”

I let my parent’s voices lulled me and I close my eyes, just feeling everything around me. My next door neighbor’s cat is mewling softly in the window sill, and the warm sun is hitting me in the face from the window. A soft breeze is passing and playing with my hair and I feel oddly alive. 

“Draco,” I hear my mother’s voice calling me softly, but I don’t want to open my eyes. The warm sun feels inviting and I can feel myself drifting into unconsciousness, ready to take a nap. “Draco,” I hear her soft voice again, but this time it sounds away. 

“I am fine, mom,” I whisper, sighing contently. “I am just going to take a nap.” 

“You do that, my darling” she tells me, kissing my cheek. And I fall asleep, contend with the warm that the sun provides. “I will be waiting for you when you wake up.” 

I nod one last time before letting go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is... Let me know what you think and leave kuddos. And comments too, I am happy when there are comments.


	2. The Prodigy

HARRY

Being normal has never been part of my life. Having privacy has never been something the wizarding community will ever give me. They still see me as their savior, they still adore and I have learned to paid them no mind. They still adore me, but now they fear me to some length and I am glad for they fear. 

I smile to Robards’ secretary and push open the door that will lead to my boss. I am barely twenty-four, but Robards and Hermione are always demanding to assist them in the most bizarre missions I have ever had the pleasure to be in. For example: last year we were involved in an explosion that blew off half of Triangle Alley, a shopping place for witches and wizards here in Wales. 

But today… Today seems as inoffensive as a daffodil. 

And when I walk in, there are Hermione and Robards all right. Pansy Parkinson is here too with Anthony Goldstein, of all people it had to be the Ravenclaw prat. 

“You are late,” Parkinson tells me while throwing at me something. 

“I am not late,” I tell her, taking the file on my hands. I look at Hermione trying to catch her eyes, but it is useless. “Why are we searching a Muggle house?” I ask, sitting on a chair. 

“It’s not just a muggle house,” Robards says. 

Hermione nods. 

“Draco Malfoy lives there,” she says steadily. “He has been there for the last two years and eight months. He moved there after we graduates at Hogwarts.”

I glance up to Parkinson. They were friends back when we were at Hogwarts, sure they are still friends.

“And why are we interested in Malfoy?” I ask Hermione. But, the answer comes from Parkinson. 

“He is one of the informants for the Hit Wizards, Aurors and Unspeakables,” she answers me, “And he works in potions, down in the darker level of the Ministry.” 

Shit. This is all but good. 

“We hadn’t heard anything from Mr. Malfoy,” Robards mumble to us. “He was supposed to deliver an antidote yesterday afternoon. But, it didn’t happen. So, I am going to guess the worst.” 

“He can be sick,” I say, because usually I am not involved in this kind of cases. That is Hit Wizards shit. 

“You are here for a reason, Potter,” Parkinson almost yell at me. I see her pacing the room like a caged panther. “He is not sick. He is respectful as hell; he follows the rules. If he is sick, he fires call to let us know. If he is late, he fires calls to let us know. He is never, never like this.” 

I see her face darkening and I am almost scared to ask. 

“He can be sick,” I say again. “He is a potion master,” actually, he is the only safe bet the Ministry have. No one is as smart as Draco Malfoy in potions. A little prodigy, the Prophet said once, along with the same line as Torturer. “Something could have gone wrong and he could have faint. Potions do that to people.” 

I say remembering auror training and the people fainting for doing something stupid. I was one of the lots that fainted before graduating. 

“So, we are going to deward his house,” I blanch at what Hermione is saying. 

“Deward?” I repeat. 

“Yes,” Robards says seriously. 

This is why they need me. I am one of the two persons that can deward here in London. The other one might be dead, aparently. 

“Ok,” I say, closing the obsolete folder and letting it rest over the table. “Why is Goldstein in here, then?” I ask, curiosity winning. 

“If Draco is almost dead,” Parkinson say. And I can see it in the way her features are closing off, she is terrified. “He will need Goldstein there.” 

“What are we to do if someone took him?” I ask, because obviously, I am not a Hit Wizard. They recollect fucking information like wallet lifters. But, aurors don’t work like that, we recollect information, extracting it from their container. 

“If someone took Draco Malfoy, you are to come back here,” Robards says. 

“If someone took Draco Malfoy, we are going to plan for his extraction,” Hermiobe tells us all. Her eyes burning. “We need Malfoy here; he is the only potion master with beyond-normal skills in this country. We need him.” She stare at everyone in the room. "Alive." 

I nod, my eyes landing in something that are a layout of Malfoy’s little house. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, one kitchen, one living room and a potion lab. 

“He has no windows?” I ask as I shift the layout. 

“Yes,” Parkinson answer. “The biggest one is connected to his potion lab,” and then her manicured finger falls over a spot. 

“Then, we are going to deward from the front,” I start scheming how I am going to do this, because knowing Malfoy, a potion that can kill us all is somewhere in his lab. I turn to Goldstein. “Do you have bezoar elixir with you?” I ask. He denies. 

“Go grab some,” Robards tells him and he is gone in a blink. “Why a bezoar, though?” he asks me. 

“Malfoy is a potion master,” I say. 

“A prodigy,” Hermione chimes in. 

“A prodigy potion master,” I say trying to appease Mione. “And he was working on something. I am pretty sure, if we start dewarding from front to back, there a better chance to not kill him in the process,” I say. “Assuming he is unconscious from a potion going wrong, then we have to be careful with the dewarding. We can make a hole in his wards and extract him without risking something worst. He lives amongst muggles now. There can be seriously repercussions if we handle this poorly.”

Hermione nods at me and I stand up. A few seconds after, Goldstein is back with a new basket full of things… things that surely tastes disgusting. 

I take out my scarlet robes, arranging my shirt, so I can hide my wand in my sleeve. I see Parkinson doing the same. Her tight trousers letting nothing to the imagination. 

“See something you like, Potter?” she asked me, trying to make me flush. 

I smirk at her. 

“I think I will find something of my liking,” my smirk sharpens. “If you have a dick to match your ass, I surely would find something to look at.”

Her cheeks growing red, as are Hermione’s. But, I don’t care if they are scandalized about my comments. If Parkinson can’t handle this kind of banter, she shouldn’t be saying things like that one. Of course, she has a nice butt, but I will not put up with her snarky attitude if she actually doesn’t have a dick to take as a prize. 

“Can I rally on you to take care of that one?” I ask Hermione, while handling her my robe. 

She smacks me in the head and rolls her eyes. 

“I just destroyed Ronald robes the once,” she mumbles. Mortification tinging her cheeks. “If you keep this up Harry, I am gonna make you regret it.” 

I salute her and march off of the office. Parkinson by my side, mumbling something about stupid and Gryffindors. 

I smile feeling like if I has won an entire trip to Disney Land and back. 

“From front to back,” I tell Parkinson again.

She nods, and then she pull out a cup and we hold it for dear life. 

Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω

“Who the fuck warded Malfoy’s house?” I ask for third time, while trying to unthread the massive ward. It’s like being lost in a fucking hurricane of threads. 

“Draco did it himself when he moved in here,” she says. 

“Fucking Dumbledore,” I swear again. I have been sitting here for the last twenty minute and still I hadn’t be able to open up the ward. 

“What has Dumbledore to do with anything?” Goldstein asks me while munching on a sandwich. 

I roll my eyes. 

It was cruel, and Draco helped to win the war in ways the wizarding world will never know. The next day following the battle of Hogwarts, I took Snape and Dumbledore’s memories to Hermione. And the next month, I took them to Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister. 

Draco Malfoy, the traitor. Draco Malfoy, the spy. Draco Malfoy, the dead walking machine. Draco Malfoy, the potion prodigy. Draco Malfoy the occlumens master. He was the one, together with Snape, that keep things going forward for the light. The light was scared of Dumbledore, the light where afraid. 

Dumbledore were manipulating everyone. But, Snape and Malfoy keep things going forward. Ensuring the survival of the wizarding world. But, Draco Malfoy didn’t want the fame nor the glory. So, the Wizengamot never revealed the identity of the person that worked closely to Severus Snape. They say maybe Lucius, or Narcissa were the ones. 

I know the truth. Draco Malfoy learned potions from a young age. His mentor: Severus Snape. His abusive ass of a father couldn’t love his son. Instead, the little blond monster spent his time with Snape. Trying to please someone who would care enought to prize him. 

What a rubbish childhood. And these are the things that I know that the Wizarding World can not even start to guess. Who could paint Lucius Malfoy as an abussive Father and husband? Not all these stupid people, blind enought to turn their backs when you need them the most. Not the ones whose, actually, never tried to implemented red flags to extract an abussed child from his home. This stupid dorks are the Wizarding World. Thank Merlin they have Hermione and Draco to take them out of their missery. 

Because missery loves company. But, geniouses love actions, and rules and rights.

“Are you done now, Potter?” Parkinson asks me and I ignor her completely. 

This is a rare ward. It’s behaviour is similar to the one with the Fidelius charm on it. But, similar doesn’t mean exactly. When a Fidelius Charm it’s threw over a ward, the Charm renovate the thread of the ward constantly, absorbing the environment around it. Fidelius works like the invisibility cloak. 

This ward is working similarly. It’s renovating constantly, but not absorbing the environment around it. This feels more like a repelling. This is a combination between a Fidelius and a Salvia ward. 

I smile. 

“Clever,” I whisper, my brain trying to reverse whatever Malfoy did here. “The prat is fucking clever.” 

A salvia ward can be trespassed if the mind is enough trained to resist it. The Fidelius can stop repelling the person once you said the Password to unshed the threads. 

“What’s Malfoy fond of?” I ask Parkinson, leeting the ward in peace and seeing how it start to heal. 

Yeah, the prat is a fucking genius. 

“Uh,” Parkinson is thinking. Hard. “His mother.” 

The words mother and then Narcissa scapes my mouth, but the thread doesn’t fall. 

“What else?” I ask her again. 

“He loves chocolate cake,” she says, squatting down by my side. 

I press my hand to the ward. This is something I has seen Malfoy do often with people he cares about. Oddly as it is, Luna Lovegood is one of the persons that receive this kind of affection from Malfoy. 

That’s it. 

“Luna,” I whisper to the ward, pushing the words into it, until the threads start to unravel. 

The shinning dome starts to recede, making a kind of door for us. 

“What was that?” Parkinson asks me. 

I shrug, because I am not about to tell her Malfoy might have substituted her with Luna Lovegood of all people. 

“I would explain you,” I stop to look at her. “But, I am not going to waste my breath trying. You will not understand.” 

Parkinson turns red and I swallow the laughter that want to burst out of my mouth. 

Parkinson is moving us to somewhere. 

“Where are you taking us?” I ask her, because these wards are not gonna let us left. Not even with a portkey. 

“Potion lab,” she says. 

I grip my hand and prepare myself to defend Goldstein. Parkinson is a Hit Wizard, she sure as hell can take care of herself. 

“This is the one,” she whispers. And then, the door is open, and the place is empty. 

“Maybe his bedrrom,” Goldstein says, steeping back. 

“Or the kitchen,” I say, making room for Parkinson to go out. “Potions is similar to cooking.” 

“Are you good at cooking, Potter?” Parkinson sneers at me. 

“Nop,” I just shrug. I don’t care. The priority is Malfoy. 

“If we follow your logical theory about cooking and potions being a kind of cousins, that explain your incapability to produce a decent potion, no matter in what grade we were at the moment,” she says and throw a smile at me. 

I smile her back. Because, there’s no way she will misunderstand that I want something with her. 

“What is that smell?” Goldstein asks. 

Ugh. I feel my stomach recoiling. How did we missed this?

And then, I can see him. I blond head is in the floor. Over a pool of blood. His chest is moving slowly. 

Goldstein walks to him and I can hear sob coming out of Parkison’s mouth. 

“We have to take him to Mungo’s,” I see him casting a spell over Malfoy, and it’s makes the bleed stops. “No one can touch him, since we don’t know if he is curse. Etasis,” the blond whispers and then, I see Malfoy floating. “I will need both of you.”

I just nod, watching the bloodied knife still on the floor.


	3. Proof

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had major problems with my eyesight and they are comming slowly to normalcy, but its gonna take a while to be all good again. While that happens, I feel happy to post, not as frecuent as I would like, but... 
> 
> Yes! Enjoy!

HARRY 

"What do you think about what we saw today, Parkinson?" I ask her, while I look through the kitchen. 

"I don't know, Potter," she tell me, squatting down and watching the floor closely. "It doesn’t look like anyone has forced the door, nor the wards." 

"Those wards couldn't be forces in any way," I whisper, remembering the lies McGonagall revealed to me when I went back to Hogwarts for me eight year. The wards that surrounded the Dursley's houses wasn't my mother's. They were Dumbledore. "Whomever did this, Malfoy gave them his consent to pass the wards." 

I sigh. 

Draco Malfoy can be a lot of things, but stupid is not one of those. The prat was annoying to no end. But he survived the war and the final battle, all of that while lying to a mad man. Draco Malfoy can be a lot of things, but he never put his faith into anyone without any reason. 

"You know Malfoy better," I tell Parkinson, while moving around the spacious kitchen. "What person will he invites his house?" 

"Home," Parkinson corrects me and I just roll my eyes. "Blaise, maybe Theo, and me. And sometimes, Kingsley comes here, to talk to Draco about developing at Mungo's." 

Shit. None of them would kill him. Zabini was there trying to protect Malfoy's ass back when we were starting seventh year, trying to actively help Malfoy to lie to Dumbledore. Then, there's Theodore Nott. 

"What do you know about Nott?" I ask her. 

"He wouldn’t hurt Draco," Parkinson tells me, while lifting something heavy off the floor with her wand. "Maybe this he was working onto some potion?" 

I cast a quick Scourgify on the heavy thing. It is a jar, a jar full of gummy bears and jelly snakes. Odd, they are all Muggle sweets. 

"Why not?" I ask her trying to understand. 

"Theo was in love with Draco back when we were at Hogwarts," she says. A smile appearing on her red lips. "Now he is married to Susan Bones. And I know he loves her," Parkinson says with conviction. 

"You cannot know that," I say, looking at the stove. There's something odd with the way the kettle is arranged. 

"I can, because drunk people usually say the truth. Specially if that truth is coming out of Theodore Nott's mouth," she says, smelling briefly around the house. 

"I am taking the knife and the potion vial," I let her know, while lifting my hand to encase them in an extasis bubble. "I will take this to Saint Mungo's. With Merlin's help Malfoy will wake up and tell us to fuck off." 

Because that's what Draco Malfoy is good at, pushing people away. 

"Are you still resented because Draco didn't join you on a date a year and a half ago?" she asks me, her eyes glinting with evil. 

I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the sting that raked through my chest. 

"No, I am not resented about that," I asnwer her question, because I am not mad at Malfoy, I am mad at myself for not being able to make myself forget how Draco Malfoy looks at his most vulnerable moments. The way his eyes turns the same shade of a blue sky in a summer day; whenever he is sitting reading, the way he looks up, trying to give sense to the things he is pondering inside that beautiful mind of his. 

All that, you just get to see when you are skulking a library late in the night. Or whenever the sky is so dark outside you can barely see, but Draco Malfoy is always close to wherever have a chair, a table and books to satiated his hungry mind. The magic crackling around him, emitting a kind of chill that feels like a cold breeze in the middle of a hot summer day. 

And that was how I fell in love with fucking Malfoy Watching him faithfully every night. While I was training to be an Auror, Draco Malfoy was finishing his career as a Muggle Doctor and finishing his apprenticeship as a Potion Master. The last class to become an auror was Potions. And Draco Malfoy was there, assisting Melanie Manstritch, and more time than not, she let him teach and help us to understand. 

I let go of my thoughts and step up to the floo. 

"Saint Mungo's," I say clearly, leaving Parkinson gapping at me. 

I don't care about it. Draco Malfoy rejected me the first time I asked him to go out with me. But maybe I have a chance again. And since I parcially saved his life, and I know he doesn't care about it, I know I can take advantage of that one to ask for a second first-date again. 

I smile, while reaching Saint Mungo's reception area. 

"I am looking for healer Goldstein," I say to the receptionist. 

She looks up and start to stutter. 

"R-r-room thirty-six," she says and then she blushes. 

"Nice to know you still have the touch," Parkinson mocks me. Her evil smile is back in her lips. 

"Did you find something else?" I ask her. 

"Yes," she nods at me. "The wards in the back yard had a big hole in them. A dog could walk through it, anyone who still can crawl, could access Draco's yard." 

I nod, walking to where I know are the rooms for the really sick people. A little kid-wizard with sandy blond hair comes out, he sneezes and then, a hole appears on the walls. 

"Sorry," he apologies to the mediwitch that is walking by his said. She smiles at him, and ruffles his hair. 

"We will get you all better in a couple of days," she says to him, walking him down the hall. 

"What was that?" I ask Parkinson, knowing her she wouldn't resist to insult me and then, she will proceed to give me my answer. I just have to endure in silence. 

"Are you stupid Potter? Or don't you ever read?" she asks me and I smile. "Ugh. That is the vanishing disease." 

I smile again, satisfied with my course of action. I let my hand fall over the door, knocking before opening the door. 

"You took your sweet time," Goldstein tells us. 

I shrug, because I don't care. 

"You don't leave the crime scene without checking in a bit first, Goldstein," Parkinson is quick and sharp with her tongue. "We don't know what happened to him." 

"Is not it obvious?" he asks, but Parkinson and I stay mute. "He tried to commit suicide." 

Parkinson rolls her eyes so hard I am pretty sure she could see her sharp pug-faces ancestors. 

"No, he didn't," we say at the same time. 

"Yes, Draco was happy," she says fast and hot. 

"Being the key word was," Goldstein says. "He was happy, which means in the past he was happy. You don't know about the last month, and I am sure as hell being a hermit doesn't help to keep your mental health in shape, never mind mentioning the fact that maybe, as he never came looking for a mind healer, he could still be suffering from horrible nightmares. I don't know about you both, but I hadn't forgotten how many shits he had to endure and do under the Carrows, never mind that he lived in the same house as a Manic Sociopath and his cruel psychotic snake." 

I see Goldstein keep throwing spells at Malfoy like there is not tomorrow. Then, he conjures a Patronus. 

"I need healer Mason in here to connect a Muggle IV to a new patient, who needs a transfusion," he says, and then the Patronus disappeared. 

"You think… He did this to himself?" Parkinson asks and I can hear the defeat in her voice. 

"I am pretty sure he was the one who open up his own wrist," Goldstein says. I can see concern dancing on his eyes. "Call me stupid, but somedays I really hate being part of the Wizarding World here in Britain. They think themselves all high and mighty, so they can judge a boy for things he cannot control, but most of them weren’t here helping win this war. They don't know a lot of facts, but they think they do because they read Skeeter and bought a bunch of crappy books." 

I see him reaching out to a cabinet and then, open up a package and taking a syringe out of it. 

The door burst open and a lady with blond hair and some grey streaks walking toward the bed with a bag with a purple liquid inside it. I take her from her arm, stopping her completely. 

"What's on the bag?" I ask her not thrusting her. 

"Replenishing blood potion," she says to me. "He isn't conscious. He needs the potion running through his blood stream to help him get better." 

"He is Draco Malfoy," I tell her, trying to seize her reaction. 

But, she looks at me like if I am some kind of stupid moron. 

"I don't care who he is. He needs to get better," and she frees herself from my grip. "And I don't care if you are Harry Potter or Merlin himself, if you dare to stand between my patient and me again, I am going to hex you so hard, your great-grandfather will feel it. Did you hear me, kid?" She walks past me and I smile. 

Parkinson looks at her with her mouth open and her eyes shining with hope. Goldstein looks at both of us, and then, he is pinching Malfoy with the syringe. 

"Sadly, to confirm something we need him conscious," Goldstein says to me. "We cannot wake him up just yet..." He stops and looks to Parkinson. "I am not going to wake him up tomorrow either. You will have to wait until he wakes up on his own. His brain was left without blood; therefore, he was left without oxygen." 

"Why could not you wake him?" Parkinson ask, and then she passed them the knife. "I think the knife have magic embedded into it." 

"Fuck," Goldstein swear and the Smart-Lady-Healer Mason glare at him. I see Goldstein unwrapping his right hand. 

"What's wrong?" I ask them. 

"The knife was cursed," Smart-Lady-Healer says to us. "We have to help him," and then I see her keeping Malfoys skin apart, baring the wound to us. Goldstein is at her side casting spells that makes the entire room smell like disinfectant. "I will keep the wound open so you can seal the vein." 

Goldstein nods. 

"Wait, what?" I ask them, but they are both focused on Malfoy. 

"He needs this, otherwise, he is going to die. The Replenishing potion will do nothing if he keeps bleeding. Specially if we are causing something worst." 

I swallow hard. I look at Parkinson and she seems paler. 

"He will be ok, he is smart and hard to kill," I whisper to Parkinson. 

She nods softly, gripping hard her own jacket. 

"He will be ok, but the wound cannot be healed by magic and it will scar, like yours, Mr. Potter," Smart-Lady Healer says and she taps on her forehead. "Sadly, we cannot close this with magic, since it was inflicted with magic. But he will be ok. In the meantime, I suggest you to take that knife to a curse breaker, that is some serious damage he suffered there. I am pretty sure he couldn't even feel the pain, not when he was making the cut, nor when he was bleeding to death." Mason looks one last time towards Draco and smiles to him. "We will make you all better again, darling. Don't you worry. Your friends in here will going to kick the ass of whomever coursed you." 

And as sure as hell we will. Parkinson is not one you know for her calmness, but for her viciousness. And I... I sure as hell am ready to chocke to death whomever has dare to harm my better half, even if he refused to go out with me. I don't care, I still love him and I still want to hurt whoever hurt him first. 

"Is he going to be ok?" Parkinson asks to Goldstein, her voice cracking a bit. 

"He is going to live, that's the only thing that matters," the ex-Ravenclaw ways. 

And for the first time this morning, I agree with him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love when people say HI. Please, left a comment or a kuddo, they make my day all better.


	4. From The Top The Bottom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, how are you? I hope you like this chapter. It was a bit hard writting it. And I think maybe I should change the rate of this story. Uh... Not sure yet. 
> 
> XOXO

DRACO

“Draco, my darling.” My mother’s voice is calling me to wake up. 

Instead of open my eyes, I roll to my side where something is biting hard on my wrist. This is so uncomfortable. I wrap my free and not itching around whatever magical creature is trying to steal my blood. I swat it, but instead of making it go away, I just manage to make the pain worst. 

“Draco, is time to wake up and help your mother,” her soft voice tells me. 

I open my eyes, and there is my mother. She is as always. Slender, all soft and flirty smiles. Her gray eyes are sparkling today and I feel happy. 

“You just slept the morning away, my Dragon,” she says to me and her hand caress my cheeks. “It is time to wake up, Draco. We have a lot of things to do today.” 

I nod, remembering that we are free from the Dark Lord. The ever-chivalrous Harry Potter defeat him in a burst of magic and something I cannot still name for my life. I smile, remembering how sad I was while my lovely cousin was on our basement, being threaten and slapped by Bellatrix. 

“Where’s Luna?” I ask my mother, while sitting on the bed. This bedroom is so different from the manor. “And, where are we?”

My mother smiles to me while she extends her hand for me to take it. 

“Luna is going to join us in a bit to have a late brunch, since you slept the morning away,” I take my mother’s hand and I squeeze it, trying to show her just how much I love her and how grateful I am for her to be alive. “I am sure she saw you were going to rise late today. It was her idea after all, to meet with us today in a later time.” 

I smile softly. Back when we were at Hogwarts, my Father told me not to talk with the odd daughter of my batty aunt. When the war started, I decided on my own volition to avoid Luna at all cost. If I ever were discovered, they surely will harm Luna. As the knowledge of the Wizarding World is so small, they never discovered my parentage with Luna or Ron Weasley. Even if I am not fond of Weasley, I am fond of Luna. 

Her moonlight hair, just as pale blond as mine, made me feel less awkward back when we were at Hogwarts. The few times we meet with each other in the Forbidden Forest to talk with the one Firenze, was the most memorable moments I had the pleasure to bask in while a war was ragging over the Wizarding World. 

“I will bathe,” I tell my mother, taking in the strange bedroom. 

“Oh,” my mother says. “We are in the old chateau at France, do not worry, my darling. Just enjoy your bad,” she says and then I close my eyes. Trying to breathe in the soft parfum my mother always used. 

It lulls me to sleep again. I start to relax my tired muscles and I let go of all the things I shouldn’t be thinking about. But, at the end, the bright emerald eyes of the only person I have ever love romantically, keeps staring at me through my mussing. I can hear Harry’s laugh and I can smell that atrocious treacle tart he is so fond of. 

I take a deep breath and let go of everything around me to focus on Harry’s smile.

† † † † † † † † † † † † † † † † † † † † † † † †

"Draco," I hear mother's voice again and I know I fell asleep again. "My Dragon, Luna is waiting for you," she combs her hand through my hair. "I know you are tired, but let’s meet Luna. She has been waiting for you for a while." 

"I hadn't bathe," I say mother and I can feel the blood traveling to my cheeks. 

"I am pretty sure Luna wouldn't mind," she says to me and I know it is true. 

"Are you ok with Luna and me being my friend?" I ask her and a smile gracing her lips. 

"I don't mind as long as you are happy, my love," she whispers against my ear and suddenly, I am being engulfed by her arms. 

I cannot help it, and I end up hugging my mother. The months before the war were the worst, but then... Everything was done and Harry won. The Aurors told me they didn't know anything about my parents. They went missing. But, now mother is here and I am happy for it. I don't want to look for Father just yet, I want to enjoy my mother for myself just for a fewer hour. 

"Do you miss Father?" I ask her. 

She let go of me and her eyes stare at me intently. 

"I am happy I have you, my dragon," she says and then, her red warm lips are pressing against my forehead. 

"Stop harassing me, Mother," I say to her, letting a giggle scape my own mouth. 

Giggling is Unmalfoy, but I don't care. Father is not here to hit me with his cane for doing something Malfoy's don't do. So, I just let it me. The joy bursting inside my chest. 

"Let’s go to Luna," I say to Mother, creating space between us. 

I nod. I feel free, knowing my mother aprove, for first time of someone I really considered my friend. 

"She is this way," my mother says and I immediately start to walk by her side. "It is a little door, but I am pretty sure you will manage, my beautiful boy. You are growing so much, and faster than ever, I want you to know. You will be a hell of man soon," she says. "I cannot wait to meet my future in-law and all the grand-children I know you will have." 

"I like men, mother," I mumble, but she isn't deterred by my words. 

"I know that, darling," she says. "But, you can always use potions or magik-adopt one. I will be happy either way. I hope you have a lot, so I can have lots of grandchildren to spoil." 

What is this thing with mothers and grandchildren? Pansy told me a few days her mother is expecting her own gran-children soon. But, I am pretty sure Pansy is something from the other world. She is so special, and no one is up to her standards. She says I am, but that's stupid. She just says it because we were raised together. Obviously, I am the best little brother she has, since she has none from blood. 

"No one will spoil them," I say seriously. "They will not even be a Malfoy." 

My mother smiles evily at me. 

"Surely you will want to take Mr. Potter last name," she says, smiling like the Cheshire cat. 

I splutter at her words. 

"That's not true," I say, stopping my travel. "I am not in love with Harry." 

My mother turns on her heals, her scheming face looking straight to my soul. 

"But, I am pretty sure you actually became a spy to keep Mr. Potter alive," she says, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You can say whatever you want, you can even lie to yourself, Draco. But I know you better then any other human alive.” 

"That's... That's not true," I tell her, trying to stop my blood from rushing to my cheeks. "I did it to help Uncle Sev." 

"Severus didn't need your help, my darling," she says, turning on her heals and starting the journey again. "He managed just fine for sixteen years before you." 

I roll my eyes so hard; I am pretty sure I can see my grey over-working brain. 

"Well," I say swallowing hard. "I know I did it to help Severus. Whatever else you want to attribute to my selfless love for my Godfather, I will not take credit of it," I say looking straight to the door. It is a bit small then me. But, I am pretty sure I can manage. "And I am not in love with Potter." 

Yes, because calling him Harry in front my mother is all sort of wrong. It is like confessing. And when you confess something to your mother, there's not going back. 

“Are you going to keep up this nonsense, Draco?” she asks to me, arching a beautiful blond eyebrow. Her eyes are searching inside my soul and I slam the ward of my Occlumency back in place. 

“I am going to say this again, Mother,” I say, taking a deep breath so she can hear it clearly. “I am not in love with Potter.” 

“Oh, that’s nice, darling,” she says and I think she is actually losing it. “But, there shouldn’t be any No while you are declaring your love for the one you love the most.” 

“I didn’t say…” I try to argue against my mother. 

"Whatever you say, my darling," she says and suddenly I can see the door opening. 

I hear other footsteps coming from behind. 

“You should know by now, Draco,” my father tells me. His hand on my shoulder. “You shouldn’t argue against women. They can remember things that happened decades ago with the clarity of a thousand burning suns.” 

I let a smile appear on my lips. 

“Stops feeding our child with that nonsense, Lucius,” she says to my Father. “And I want you on your best behavior while Luna is here. No stupid comments about your exotic sister.” 

“Now the word is exotic,” my Father mumbles. 

“I herd that,” my mother reprimands him. 

“She was crazy,” my father says. 

“Bella was crazy,” my mother says and I feel the goose bumps appearing on my skin. “At least Pandora was sane. She was just fond of… exotic things.” And I can hear my mother adding a soft: Like you. 

I laugh at my Mother’s words. 

“I am not exotic,” Father’s says lifting his nose. “I just like good things.” 

I let them bicker like the old married couple they are. I am happy, because now, I don’t have to search for Father anymore. He is here, with mother. They are both alive and they love each other, and they love me in their own strange way. I am about to see Luna again and my Father is not mad about my own cousin visiting. 

Luna. 

“Come now, Draco,” my Father’s says authoritatively as always. 

I nod softly, lowering my head a bit to hid the blush in my cheeks. I want what they have, a lovely family and a happy ever after. An eternity living with someone I can love and will love me in return. Maybe, not as much, but enough to be together for a life.

I trespass the door. It is a bit small, even my parents have to haunch a bit to pass it. That is odd. But, I don’t care. I want to see Luna and have a late breakfast with my parents. With my family. Maybe one day, my Aunt Andromeda will want to come here with her little grandchild, my nephew: Teddy Lupin.

And suddenly I am falling, there's no more floor to keep walking. And I am falling hard. I can see the pavement waiting for me and I close my eyes hard, trying to stop my brain from feeling something else then the impending pain. 

What is wrong with me? Where are my parents? And Luna? Where's Luna? A cold tear scape eye while I think about Luna. And my Parents. And Teddy.

"Wingwardium Leviosa," Harry's voice breaks the silence. 

But, my body hit the hard floor anyways. And I feel by bones cracking and the pain erupting in my body. If I die I will be close to my parents again? Maybe Luna is with them in heaven. If I die, will I be with them? 

But, the pain is too much and closing my eyes and letting go seems like a good idea. So, I close my eyes and let go of everything. 

"Malfoy," Harry's voice is calling me. 

And I let go, because Harry would never love me like I love him. So, I let the darkness engulf me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Left kuddos if you like it. And comments if you wanna tell me something. I really like when people says hi.


	5. Lost In Desperation

HARRY

“He has two broken ribs,” the healer says to me, while she performs a new spell over Draco’s body. “A fracture ankle and his two wrists are bruised and swelling faster,” a baby blue light emerges from his body and I can all the places that are broken or bruised. “His brain is fairly good for the hit he sustained. But…” 

I hate buts. 

Suddenly, the healer that has been behind the lovely lady that have been in charge of Draco since we brough him here, take a steep closer to me. 

“He is healer Davidson,” smart-healer lady says. 

“Nice to meet you,” his eyes are shinning with something equal to adoration. Unlike smart-healer lady that will hex my balls off if I ever try to stand between her and an ill Draco. “I am healer Davidson and I treat mind curses.” He extends his hand to me and I shake it quickly. 

“Do you know who is he?” I ask him, seizing his reaction. 

“He is Draco Malfoy,” he answers my question without hesitation. “And he has been cruse.” Davidson says, giving me his back and looking at Draco. I move to be in his visual range to seize him better. “We don’t understand completely what this curse is working, but it is for sure, trying to kill him.” 

I nod. Draco is not the suicidal type. He survived through a war, he spied for us. He is more resilient then anyone can imagine. 

“Where’s Parkinson?” Goldstein asks while entering the room and going directly to smart-healer lady. 

“Not here,” I say to him because I cannot say where she is at the moment. It can ruin her career. 

“Well, if you can, tell her to hurry up. His brain is swelling too fast for our liking and it’s not looking good,” Goldstein says while, moving his wand around Draco’s blond head. “This is blood dripping inside his head.” 

That’s not good. 

“Boyfriends can sign for the surgery, right?” I ask Goldstein. He nods. 

“Who’s the boyfriend?” he asks me, a few papers appearing in his hand. 

“I am,” I say extending my hand. 

The whole room is staring at me now, but I don’t care. I know I am lying and maybe they know it too, but I don’t care. Parkinson is right now in Italy and Luna, his med proxy, is working in America. There’s no other way around getting Draco better. 

“Are you aware that if you are lying, Mr. Potter, we can rise charges against you?” smart-lady healer says. 

“I have ways to prove we are together,” I say to her, crossing my arms and looking her in the eye. 

“Then, by all means,” she says, her blue eyes alight with something fierce shinning inside them. “Show me. Prove to me that you are Mr. Malfoy boyfriend, because other wise I am going to rise charges against you.” 

I nod, faking confidence. A smirk appearing on my lips. A blond told me once: if you don’t have confidence, fake it. No one can tell the difference, except you. And I intend to keep the act up if that mean Draco can have the surgery he needs. 

“What do you want me to show you?” I ask her, walking out of Draco’s room. 

I can play this. 

“I want confirmation on both sides,” she says seriously. “First your house, Mr. Potter,” she says and extend my hand for her to take. 

“Sure, but if you ever breathe anything about our lives I am the one who’s going to rise charges,” I warn her, and she don’t back down. 

Interesting. 

I close my eyes, imagining the living room at Grimmauld place. I feel the magic tugging at my navel and seconds latter we are in Grimmauld Place. Kreacher appears with a plate of chocolate shortcakes. 

“Hello, Kreacher,” I great the house-elf. “Are you hungry, Ms. Healer?” I ask her. 

“This is not for the modblood,” Kreacher says seriously. 

The healer looks at the house elf. A smile appearing in her face. But, for first time since I opened my big mouth, I know I have nothing to worry about. It might be true what Parkinson says, that maybe I was resented to Draco about the dating thing that went downhill. But the truth is, Draco never stop coming here to work our asses late at night when a case was as fucking difficult as hell. 

“For who are those?” she asks the grumpy elf. Kreacher throws a venom look at her. 

“For master Draco,” he says eying furiously at the healer. 

I smirk. 

“Why?” she asks and Kreacher looks at her like she is a new kind of stupid. 

“Because this is Master Draco favorite,” he says to her. Never wavering. “Where’s master Draco, Harry?” 

My shoulders falls. 

“Still not good, Kreacher,” I say to the elf. “But, he will be back home soon.” 

The old elf turn on his heal. 

“I will make soup for Master Draco, then,” he says and then, he is gone. 

“Interesting,” Smart-Healer says. “But, I don’t buy it. I want to see your bedroom.” 

I nod and I guide her through the beauty that is now Grimmauld Place. All the house went through a furious make up, courtesy of Luna and her endless need to help helpless souls that knows nothing about decorating a home. So, she paints the walls with light color and then, I had to put up with a whiney Draco Malfoy about owning the worst fashionable curtains ever, the impossible and less-then-comfortable furniture. And then with a furious Hermione complaining about the lack of things in the house and with a shameless Ron bringing sets of cutleries so he can cook and eat here whenever they drop by. Grimmauld 12 started to change with the endless love of all my friends. 

To shut up everyone mouths, I let Luna paint the walls and I took a small fortune out of Gringotts so Draco can buy whatever furniture he seems good enough to spend his evenings working my ass off, because he is never going to let me slack at my job. I let him buy whatever he wanted to stop listening to his constants complains about his back or his ass hurting. And so, Draco choose a lot of things for the areas he spends most time in: the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom and my bedroom. 

Because, he cannot be arsed to sleep in a guest room because and I quote: it smell like old shit. 

“This is,” I open the door using my wand. Revealing a bedroom painted in a light brown color, with floor to ceiling windows, because I cannot stand close spaces anymore. “Our bedroom.” 

“Hmm,” Smart-Healer says looking at the queen size bed, dressed in white and gold heavy sheets that contrast with the equally heavy curtains. Two armchairs in white side to side, one of them sporting a washed-out red blanket. “Is that your chair?” she asks pointing at the chair with blanket. 

“No, that’s Draco,” I lie smoothly. “He endured to much crucios when we were teens and he have a nervous damage thing. He is cold all the time.” 

And that’s a true. 

“Ok,” she says walking to the other door in the room. “What is this?”

“Bathroom and walking closet,” I say to her and I don’t care really. 

She enters and I can see her opening the door to the walking closet. And I smile, knowing I can keep this up. 

“What is the mean of this?” she asks eying the clothes there. 

Because my wardrobe isn’t actually divided in half, but you can see the press Harry Potter in one side and the day-to-day Harry Potter in the other. But, in Harry Press side is still hanging a Ministry robe in baby blue and silver threads. The image of the Potions Master stamped in there for her to see. 

“I think is not hard to guess which side is Draco’s,” I say to her, while she keeps passing the garments. Long sleeves shirts and slacks, well pressed and of high quality. 

“So, you sleep with him,” she affirms. 

“Well, he is fit as hell,” I say to her. “And he is so fucking good with his mouth.” A blush graces her cheeks. Yes, because his mouth can land people in Azkaban. 

Good. 

“Harry,” I hear Hermione voice. “I need to talk to you, about…” And she and Ron stop in their tracks, looking at the women. “The case.” 

“Hey,” I great them. “She is Smart-Healer,” I tell them. 

“Healer Mason,” she corrects me and I can see her eyes glinting when she looks at Mione. “I am Draco Malfoy healer.” 

I nod. 

“Is he ok?” Mione asks and her gaze lands on me. “He was recovering good, right?” 

I shake my head. 

“He is not doing good anymore,” I say and I cannot keep the sadness out of my voice. 

Hermione cross the room in a few paces and she hug me tightly to her. 

“I am sorry, Harry,” she says caressing my cheek with her hand. 

“So, are Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy dating?” and smart-healer doesn’t waste time. 

Ron chokes on a chocolate frog and his face turns red. I smile briefly. 

“Wha- What? How?” he says, his voice cracked, while he keeps trying to swallow and breath at the same time. 

“Did not you know, Mr. Weasley?” Smart-Healer asks Ron. 

“Harry,” Hermione came to my rescue. “You weren’t supposed to tell anyone without Draco’s approval.” She says and I can see worry in her eyes. 

“She is not going to approve his surgery if I didn’t tell her the truth. Parkinson is somewhere in Europe and Luna is in America, she is not due to comeback until next week. I just cannot let him die because our secret relationship, ‘Mione,” I say to my best friend. “I would love to for Draco to be here, by my side, to share this with the world, but if I wait too much, I will lose him, maybe forever,” I sit down in my own bed. Because, right now the severity of the situation is downing on me. “I just want for him to get better.” 

Because if he doesn’t this will just be an empty act. If he dies, I will never get a chance to ask a second time for a first-date. I will not even have him here anymore harassing me to finish my paperwork in time. Or listening to him rummaging through Grimmauld Place searching for old and moldy potion books to help him break a case. He will not be here anymore to take my bed and sleep on it like if he owns it. Or hear him complain about me not buying enough chocolate ice-cream for his sweet teeth whenever he is home. 

I feel depressed suddenly. 

“Sign the papers, Mr. Potter,” she says to me. “I am not sure about your relationship yet, but I can see you care about him and that is enough for now.” 

I accio a quill and sign my name in the parchment. 

“He will get better soon,” she says. “I can see myself out.” 

I stare at Hermione and Ron. Mione is sitting by my side and Ron is on one of the armchairs of the bedroom. 

“Are you ok, mate?” Ron ask me. 

I just shook my head, because I feel like a traitor. Just our closest friends knows about our friendship and suddenly I am even betraying that. And I know Draco doesn’t takes betrayal in a good fashion. 

“He is going to hate,” I whisper. 

“Of course not, Harry,” Hermione says, taking my hand and squeezing it softly. 

“She is right mate,” Ron tells me. “Even I can see the part is in love with you.” 

And I know he is scare, just as much as I am to make thing go faster. Because faster can make Draco retreat back to his shell and I don’t want that. But, I want him. 

“You will both be over this soon,” she says to me and I force my self to believe in her words. Right now, Draco have no one to look after him, just me. 

“When is Parkinson coming back?” I ask Hermione. 

“Two weeks,” Hermione whispers. “They find a clue and now, Pansy doesn’t want to let go of it.” 

I smile. 

“She is good,” I say to no one in particular. 

“You are better,” Ron says to me. “But you have someone to look after,” he pats me in the shoulder. “Just as much as Parkinson have to look after someone else.” 

I nod and I let my self feel better, surrounded by the love of my best friends. 

Draco will be alright soon.


	6. In A Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back! Muajajajaj. 
> 
> Well, I am back. I'm tired. I haven't sleep good but I couldn't take this out my head and here is a +2000 words chapter. I hope you all can enjoy it!

HARRY

“How is he?” Hermione asks me while extending a hot cup of coffee for me to take. 

“I think he is doing better,” I say to her, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “Thanks for being here, Mione.” 

She smiles brightly at me. 

“That’s what friends are for,” she says and take sit by my side. “He looks really awful,” she says looking to the unconscious blond laying on a hospital bed. 

“It was pretty bad,” I say to her. “I never thought see someone I care for falling from a third floor will make me want to be a better Auror, a better wizard, a better…” and I shrug, because I don’t have the correct words to express what I want to say. “I am just glad Smart-Healer managed to put his brain together and in good shape again.” 

“Her name is Ada Mason,” Hermione tells me seriously. “And I am glad for her intervention.” 

I nod, taking a sip from the steaming cup. 

“Did you find something in the knife?” now is my turn to make the questions. 

Hermione looks up at me, biting her lip, like she is actually fighting a battle between the good and evil. 

“Kingsley wants for this to be hush hush,” she says leaning into me. “But, they think it is this cultist, people,” she says to me. Her freeze curls falling around her face graciously. “The magic found in that knife is an old one. We searched for this kind of curse in all the books available in the Upper Levels at the Ministry,” she says, looking at Draco again. “But we wasn’t able to fin anything there. It is such an old kind of specific magic… It is horrible, Harry. The Unspeakables were the only ones who can come up with something similar,” she says, looking me straight in the eye. 

“How bad?” I ask her and suddenly she is taking a long parchment out of her purse. 

“A lot,” she says untangling the long roll. “This is an old parchment written in old german. And a linguist translated it for us,” she says, opening the roll. “This is Hades and his lovely queen, Persephone.” She says poting to the two well draw figures. “They loved each other, but they were separated for half…” Hermione trails off and I know this is my chance to speak my mind. 

“What have this to do with Draco?” I ask her, not taking my eyes away from the picture. 

“Draco is sustaining the Never-Ending Winter Curse,” she says sadly. “I actually cannot pronounce those Greek words and all their weird letters, but that is what means for us.” 

“The what?” I ask her again, feeling utterly confuse. 

“Hades and Persephone were separated from the other for half a year,” she says sadly. “Hades lived in the Underworld; can you imagine how his days went while his only ray of goodness was away?” 

“It should be like living in hell,” I tell her. 

“But, it is actually worse, Harry,” she says in a whisper. 

The door opens and Goldstein is entering the room with quite steeps. 

“Has he been up?” he asks us. “Some kind of jerk in any part of his body? His eyes fluttering? Something?” 

Hermione is quick to nod since she has been looking in my direction, which is opposite to Draco’s. 

“Yes, his leg jerked every other minute,” I say to Goldstein. I am actually grateful that the Ravenclaw prat have a conscience. 

He nods softly, his wand moving over Draco’s body, a jet of baby pink light engulfing the blond. And suddenly, dancing black spots are all over his body. 

“This is not good,” Goldstein mumbles. 

“Nothing black is ever good in the wizarding world,” Hermione says, her voice thin and whispery. 

“What’s up with the dancing black spots?” I ask Goldstein, taking out my wand. 

But, the healer ignores me in favor to brandish his wand over Draco’s body. He is arm is still healing, bandaged up with gauze and a funny smelly potion-cream. His skull is wrapped up tightly and I can the places where Smart-Healer deemed good to take out chunks of his blond, silky, shiny hair. 

“He is awakening,” Goldstein says. 

“Smart-Healer says he wouldn’t be up for another twelve ours,” I say, remembering the hour-long speech about how she will raise an investigation on me if it turns out I wanted to harm Draco by faking be his boyfriend. 

“He shouldn’t be up,” Goldstein says, taking a step back. “We are not still sure what he has or how to make him better,” he says in a whisper. 

But Draco is opening his beautiful, unusual, stormy eyes. I can almost see the coughs of his brain moving slowly. He is taking on his surrounding rather fast. But it still takes a few moments for the blond to be completely aware. 

“Stop fussing over me, mother,” he says groggily. “I am fine, it’s just a headache.” 

I place my arm in front of Hermione trying to stop her from opening her mouth. Draco is obviously not with us. He is somewhere else. 

“I know this is a hospital,” he says seriously. “And yes, I know this is St. Mungo’s alright,” he says moodily, but I can see it in his cloudy eyes. He is tired and vulnerable. “I have been here before. Or have you forget I work as a potion master?” 

Then, his face is relaxing a bit. 

“I want to see, Luna,” he says, but he is not looking at us. 

That’s odd. Because, just minutes before, he was taking in all the room. And suddenly, Draco is out of bed walking straight to the window and I see the last two days starting again in front of me. 

“It is rude to apparate people out of their own hospital bed just because you have a strange whim, Father,” he says seriously, still walking to the window. “And again, that stupid small door. Ugh.” 

He is still groggy. 

I suddenly feel sorry for Hades, king of the underworld. 

“Draco?” I call to him, but he is not stopping his tracks. And then he stopps walking. 

“I refuse to see Luna if I am not clean and dress properly,” he says to no one. 

Goldstein send a yet of magic to the wall and I can see the window clicking close. The walls and floors turn to a soft-spongy thing and I feel relieve dance trough my body. I feel like if I can breathe in peace again. 

“Yes, mother, I know,” he says irritably. “I just…” And then, he is lacing his hands in front of him. “Yes, I know. I love Luna…” I listen to him, and he is so close to the window I can feel my heart thundering inside my chest. “I know Harry is a good person, but I am not try… I hate this stupid house!” Draco says furiously, his toe crashing against one of the healer’s cabinet. “Why is a vase table in the middle of the foyer?”

“He is not even seeing the room anymore,” Hermione says in a soft whisper. “He is…” 

“Hallucinating,” Goldstein says. “He woke up in this room, but this room is not suitable for suicide.” 

“This is not the Never-Ending Winter curse,” Hermione says, taking out her wand. “This is something much, much, more horrible.” 

“Mother!” the hurt tone in Draco’s voice makes me leap into action. “Take them out of me,” Draco says while he starts to dig his nails into his own flesh. “Please, it hurts.” 

I take him in my arms, pinning both of his arms to his sides, using my owns. I lower us softly to the floor, whispering sweet nothing to his ear, while he keeps crying for help. But whatever is attacking him is not visible to any of us. I still remember how Aunt Petunia used to rub Dudley’s arm when he was trying to take the scab out of his own wounds. She rubbed softly and whispered things. 

And I don’t pay any mind to the jealousy I felt back there. I start to rub Draco’s arms with both my hands, trying to apply enough pressure to create a warm feeling on his arms. 

“It’s okay, Draco,” I say, trying to soothe him with empty words. Because, we are back to square one. We don’t know what kind of course they threw at Draco. “You see? They are falling out of your arms. They can not hurt you, love,” I say to him, trying to calm him down. “It is okay, you just have to breathe,” and I start to take deep purposely breaths. 

And Draco fall in pace with me a few minutes later. 

“I want to see, Luna,” he says softly, letting all his weight fall on me. And I support him. “She promised to show me drawings of the Golden Snidged. She says we will be good friends because I played seeker once.” 

“Do you believe they are real?” I ask him, 

“Yes,” he says seriously, his voice still muddled with sleep. 

“Why?” I ask him, because he is still trapped inside the Hallucination. 

“Because Harry managed to defeat the Dark Lord,” he says softly, his body shifting, his hand taking purchase in my shirt. “He is mythical and he is real. So, the Golden Snidged, can be real too. I just have to look a bit hard for it.” 

“You think it will show up if you look hard?” I ask him again. 

“Yes,” he says, his eyelids dropping. “Sometimes to see better you have to squint a bit.” 

I kiss his blond hair, feeling my heart beating fast against my chest. I am falling more in love with this man. Draco can squint to see a better place; he can say that all he wants. But, like Luna, Draco has always been his own kind of weird. He will never say a meaningless I love you or I care. But he will show you how much he loves, how much he cares, how much he wants to be better. 

“You are right, my darling,” I say, combing my fingers through his silky blond hair. “Sometimes we just have to squint a bit to see a better world,” I left a last kiss on his forehead, while I take him into my arms, bridal style and set him again on his bed. “Sleep tight, Draco.” 

I take the sheets and took him in, trying to cover his body with the heavy blanket. He has loss weight in this last tree days and I am unhappy about it. 

“I have to do research,” Hermione says, taking her purse in her hands and leaning to kiss my cheek. “Try not to be stupid and fall more in love with him? Can you manage that?” 

I smile to her. 

“I cannot promise you that, Mione,” I say to her. 

She caresses my cheek softly and then; a full smile is gracing her lips. 

“I know,” she says in her sister-understanding tone. “You have been in love with him for the last… what?” she says amused. “Five years, maybe?”

And maybe more. But I am not about to tell her the truth.

“It is not Never-Ending Winter, right?” I ask her, trying to wrap my head around all that happened today. 

“He is sleeping again,” Goldstein says, sighing. “I have never seen anything like this,” he says seriously. “And I am pretty sure, Mason either.” 

Which is sad. Goldstein is always with the Aurors in the field because he is a Cursed Trained Healer. His knowledge in the field is a homage to the Ravenclaw house, where you have to be utterly book-lover to get inside. But, more then anything, you have to think outside the box to get a sit in the house of the Eagle. 

“Maybe other colleague will know?” Hermione offers. “I will keep researching.” 

I take her from her arm. 

“Which case was he working on?” I ask her, looking straight to where Draco is sleeping peacefully. 

“The Black Tears smuggled potions,” she says seriously. 

Shit, that wasn’t an easy fit. 

“Do you think he managed to crack it?” I ask her. But, she shake her head. 

“Not pretty sure, why?” she asks me, and I let go of her hand. 

“I am moving Malfoy to my house,” I say seriously to Goldstein. “I want this to be as silent as possible,” I say seriously. “I will need Bill Weasley, Poly-juice potion,” I say darkly. “And a conference press,” I say seriously. 

“Harry, what are you planning?” Hermione looks curiously at me. 

“I am going to luring that son of bitch back to Draco’s house,” I say, and then I let the conversation drop, while I start to scheme a better way to end with someone's life and make it look like an accident. “Don’t you worry Draco; I will take care of everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love when readers says hi or when they left kuddos. See you another night. 
> 
> XOXO  
> Greeney Silvery


	7. Playing Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is a bad ass. Bill is a hero in shinning armor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys. I am updating again, because this was due on saturday and today is monday. But, here it is a +2000 words chapter. I hope you enhoy this one.

I watch silently as Bill Weasley take a few hairs out of Draco’s head and dump them in the Polyjuice Potion. It gurgles and then, settles completely. 

“Are you sure this is not poisonous?” he asks while eying us. “I still have a little girl and a wife waiting for me at home, and even if I trust you, Hermione, you both weren't the smartest at Snape's class.” 

I smile to Bill, trying to reassure him. 

“It was brewed by the best Potion Master in England,” I say to him. “There is nothing wrong with that one.” 

Bill nods to me and then, he eyes Hermione for a few seconds before downing the potion. When he put away the vial, a grimace starts to make its way to his face. And I see the magic happening. 

Bill’s scared wounds start to close and heal, while his skin tone becomes lighter, until his skin is snow white, his hair shortening and painting with moonlight rays. His eyes becoming pure silver. 

“Are you sure we can pull this up?” Bill ask me while sitting on Draco’s bed. 

“We will, we need to,” I say to him. “We need to catch this people,” I say to him, letting my eyes rest on the real Draco. He looks better, but he is still unconscious. “Smart-Healer…” I start to say but I am interrupted by Hermione. 

“Her names is Ada Mason,” she says with the same tone she used with Ron and I when we were teens. “Therefor she is Healer Mason.” 

I take a deep breathe.  


“Where’s Parkinson?” I ask to Hermione seriously. 

“She is still stuck with a few clues,” Hermione answers my question rather fast. Her eyes trained on Bill disguised as Draco. “What is wrong Bill?” 

The Not-Draco look at us, his eyes moving from one side to the next. 

“This is not right,” Bill tell us, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. 

“What’s wrong?” I ask him, leaning on him, the Patronus ready on my tongue in case I need Smart-Healer and Goldstein. 

“This is dark,” he says to us, his eyes firmly shut. “I can see all my darkest fears dancing in front of my eyes,” Bill says, keeping his body as relaxed as he can. 

“This shouldn’t be happening,” Hermione mumbles beside me. "Curses shouldn't be tranfered to the real person to the one Polyjuiced." 

"You said it yourself, Draco is a genius," I say, looking a said genius, missing already his complaints and his subtle-there smiles. "Maybe he perfected the potion somehow."

“Keep talking guys,” Bill says, while opening his eyes gradually. “Just keep talking.” 

“What is happening?” I ask him, my auror training kicking in. This feel as a hostage situation and I cannot help, but compare the to of them in order to gain insight. 

“Here were Victoire and Fleur,” Bill keeo talking while training his eyes on ‘Mione. “And both of them were bitten…” He pauses, like if recalling. “By me.” 

I feel my body getting numb and the only thing that I can feel is my body getting cold. I try to think as an auror and less like if my brother is being cursed to death. 

“Bill,” I say to him. “Draco developed an antidote for Polyjuice. I can give it to you if this is to much.” 

Because I need Bill alive. Molly will be devasted if anything happens to any other of her children dies or their minds get damaged, for a Malfoy nonetheless. I take a deep breath, trying to remind myself that I have a family to protect too, and even if this is a hard decision, I know I will choose Bill over Draco any day. 

“No,” he says seriously. “They did this to him. He whom saved you more times then any other wizard,” Bill is looking me straight and the eye and something stir inside me, because those are Draco’s eyes piercing me. “He put his family and his life in the line to save you and gave you plenty of opportunities to defeat Voldemort. He even went out of his way to endure torture to safe a bunch of muggleborns kids,” my non-blood brother swallow tight. “And my baby brother is in love with him.” 

“Ron?” I ask, trying to lighten up the air. 

“Nop,” Bill says with his voice, but with Draco’s face. “They call him The Saviour of The Wizarding World.” 

I blush hard and a crush Bill between my arms. 

“Thank you, Bill,” I say honestly to him. 

“Don’t let go of me,” Bill says, enveloping me between his arms and clutching me hard. “This feel like a kind of warm,” He says to me, his voice restrained. “It hurt to even try to keep here with you both, saying myself we are here, that Victoire and Fleur are all okay, because this is just a bad dream,” he says to me. Bill is actually crushing my bones between his arms, but I let him haves his way, because he needs me and we are family. I feel Bill’s mouth lifting in a smile. “I have never seen anything like this…” He says not letting go of me. “This is like being back in Egypt all over again,” he says seriously. 

“But you are fighting it,” Hermione chimes in. I look at her and I can see a little notebook ready on her hands. “Why isn’t Draco able to fight it?” 

Bill denies with his head. 

“I feel stable now,” he says, but he is still not letting me go. “If we are gonna do this, I need two thigs,” he says seriously. 

“Whatever you need,” I whisper to him, because we have a conference press to release. 

“I need a scarf from Fleur and a necklace from Victoire,” he says seriously. 

“I will bring it,” Hermione offers and then, she is gone in a blur of blue and brown. 

“Bill?” I call him, trying to keep talking. 

“Yes, Harry?” He says, his arms relaxing around my shoulders. 

“How do you know?” I whisper. 

“About you being in love with Malfoy?” he asks me and I nod fast. “Because, Harry,” he mumbles. “There’s something about how people smell when they are utterly happy,” he says to me, separating us. “And whenever we are out in pup nights, the few I had the pleasure to ever join, there’s this sweet smell coming out of you,” he says to me and I can feel myself growing hot. “And the few times drunk Draco Malfoy has dance with you, it goes sweeter and sweeter,” I look Bill in the eye and I know he is saying the truth. “He is good for you, little brother,” Bill says to me. His eyes no longer shinning with unshed tears. 

“Do you think…” but I cannot bring myself to end that sentence, because Hermione is banging the door open. And a second latter, Bill is all nice bundle up in one of Fleurs light scarf and a glint of gold is peaking from his shirt. 

“Why this thought?” Hermione asks. 

“Because, is acting like occlumency,” Bill answers us. “If you aren’t paying enough attention you cannot actually feel it trying to warm its path inside your own mind. But it is there and is pounding hard inside your own memories and your wishes and your feelings,” he says, inhaling deeply, nose buried deep in Fleur’s scarf. “This smell like home, and I am using my nose to keep myself in the here and now,” he says clearly. 

“So, you think we can do something to save Draco?” Hermione asks, her eyes shinning with hope, her hands holding a pen and a notepad. 

Bill nods. 

“So, we will bundle him up in thinks that he likes,” she says talking so fast it is almost a miracle we can understand something. 

Bill shakes his head softly. 

“I am using my sense of smell because I am a werewolf,” he says seriously. “And through the full moon, while being high on Wolfsbane, I smell a few things Fleur left in the basement and I listen to Victoire’s clinking toys…” He stops talking suddenly. “I am anchoring myself with things that remind me of the people I love the most through my most dangerous self.” 

Shit, this is going to be complicated. 

“It can be different for Draco,” I say, feeling exhausted. 

“We need to try to keep him alive using what he thinks is his most destructive self,” Hermione says absentmindedly. “But it can be done.” 

“But first,” I say taking a deep breath and squaring my shoulders. “We have to take him home.” 

Both, my best friend and my non-blood brother smiles up at me. 

“Any name for this shit?” I ask while taking out my invisibility cloack and drapping it around Draco. 

“It’s a bit different from what I have ever seen, back there in Egyp they call it The Baathew Curse,” he says. “Even if this is slightly different, I think they behave in the same way. It’s like… Colds.” 

Colds? 

“Yes!” Hermione says and I look at her blooming smile. “Colds have different symptomatology and they have different names and they behave in different ways depending on the person, but they focused on the same target…” she says, jotting furiously on her notepad. “A down immunological system is the only thing they need to find a home in a human.” 

“An immune what?” Bill asks, burring his nose in the white scarf around his neck. 

“Never mind,” she says. “Maybe you just need to have depression and the curse will find a place to live into,” she says seriously. 

“Draco wasn’t depressed,” I say seriously. 

“We don’t know that, Harry,” she says and I can see guilt in her eyes. 

“Maybe…” Bill is about to tell us something when Smart-Healer opens the door. 

“They are waiting for Mr. Malfoy in the little room for press,” she says. “I am going to recommend a spell that will write on air whatever it is your are thinking. Whatever they ask, you are not able to talk, Mr. Weasley,” she says seriously. 

“Why not?” I ask her, worry warming its way in my chest. 

“Because the part of Mr. Malfoy’s brain that connected with his vocal cords was severly damaged when he fell from the window,” she says. “You know another healer was here and he helped us to stabilize Mr. Malfoy. I am really sorry.” 

“He will be ok,” I say resolutely, caressing his cheeks with my fingertips. “He is strong. He survived a war while being…” 

“Harry,” Hermione admonish me rather quickly.

“I will nurse him back to his snarky, prickly self,” I say to the old woman. “And I hope I can count with you to help all the way there,” I say, still gazing at Draco’s face. 

Smart-Healer touch my hand with hers softly. 

“I will be there, Mr. Potter,” she says and her honestly is so pure is overwhelming me. 

And I am thankful because she survived this war, not matter how. Because she is one of the few that will see past a hard frame, a few lies and a few sneers. Because she is wise enough to let go off of stupid grudges. 

“Bill,” I look at the older son of Molly and Arthur. “You will do great.” 

“Of course, I will do great, Harry,” he says, patting me in the back. “I have a reminder of good times here,” he says, caressing the white scarf and then rolling the tear of the necklace between his fingers. “I will see you in thirty minutes. Take care of your little dragon,” he says. “Get better soon, brat,” he says to Draco smiling to the unconscious blond. 

“You got an army behind you, Mr. Potter,” Smart-Healer says. “I am pretty sure Mr. Malfoy will be in good hands.” 

Healer Mason helps me to disconnect him from the IV, then the both of us cast an extasis charm on Draco’s body and I put the hood of the invisibility cloak over his blond head. 

“I am going to take you home now, Draco,” I say to him, lifting him up into my arms and securing him there. My magic wandering around me, crackling menacing for any other wizard to know I am dangerous. 

“You don’t have to be this hostile, Mr. Potter,” the healer says while opening the door, then leading me down a corridor to her office to use the floo. 

“I am not taking any risk when everything is revolving around him,” I tell her seriously. 

“You are a dangerous wizard,” she mumbles and I still can catch her words. 

“Yes, Healer,” I say to her. “And if you are as smart as I think, you will do good to remember that,” a silent threat lingering on my words. 

“You are more then the saviour,” she says stopping in the chimney, her eyes widening. 

I let my magic engulf her. 

“Yes, Healer Mason,” I say to her in a whisper, my magic making the talking. “You will do good to remember that I am also a killer. The killer of the Dark Lord,” I whisper and she turns white-sheet paper, while I retreat into the floo. My precious bundle secure between my arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys if you are in any part of Central America, my heart goes out to you all and your families. Take care of yourself, as right now I know you are not just dealing with CoVid-19 but with the damage Etta left and now the damage Iotta is causing. 
> 
> You are all on my prayers. 
> 
> XOXO  
> Greeney Silvery


	8. A Place So Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am late again. Sorry guys, I try but this is hard. 
> 
> Well, I am happy with this chapter, you know I will not post intil I am satisfied with what I am writing and how its turns out. 
> 
> But, I managed to make this one.

“Is he awake yet,” Hermione ask me while I pull together a simple breakfast. Winky helping me to fry the bacon. 

“No,” I tell her seriously. “He is still sleeping and Smart-Healer comes here every morning and every night to ensure his safety,” I say to Hermione, while said Healer is passing the arch that connects the dinning room with the kitchen. 

“Who is the person that eats in the dinner what is actually breakfast food?” She asks, looking me in the eye. “You are going to drop dead soon, Mr. Potter,” she scolds me. “I cannot asure your well being while eating things like this,” she pursued her lips, but take a sit next to Hermione. “He is doing good, by the way. Even if I don’t believe you both are together.” 

“Bacon, Healer,” I ask her while smirk at her way. “Well, Draco always like a light dinner and I am no one to oppose to his cravings,” I say shamefully. 

“When is he going to wake up?” Hermione asks to Smart-Healer and the woman seems troubled finding a suitable answer for this woman. 

I actually would be a bit scared. I am always am whenever she throws that stare at me. The same stare that screams: If you didn’t do your research, I am not going to translate this shit for you. Because she was there helping me defeat Voldemort. She was the brains, I was the brawl, Ron was our strategist. 

“I asked you a question, Mr. Potter,” Healer Mason says a bit pissed about my lack of attention. “So, what is your answer?” she asks me again and I just stare at her blankly. 

“What was it?” I ask her, taking my own plate out of Winky’s hands and going to sit in front of them, while Winky hands them both their own plates. Bread, fried bacon, cheese and eggs all over the plates. 

“Are you aware that having an Auror that is your partner involved with you romantically and not inform the Ministry is against the laws?” she says, while eating savagely on the bacon. 

“Theoretically, Draco is not an auror,” I answer her honestly. “Sure, he helped…” And Hermione interrupts me. 

“He is still a professor, Harry,” she says seriously. 

“Well, he is just a professor in potion class,” I resume, looking at Mason straight in the eye. “He is not, theoretically, an auror. Even if he can perform a few tricks, he is not. He is a potion master,” And I am glad because this time Hermione doesn’t make me stop mid-sentence. “He is a consultant for Aurors and the Wizengammot, but he is not an Auror.” I can feel something stirring inside my gut. “And if we are together, we are not violating any rule or law, because he is not an auror,” I hiss the last one. 

“If it is not the week-end, what I am doing at your house, Potter?” Draco’s posh voice yanks me out of me stare war against Healer Mason, and even if I lose to her I don’t care. 

Draco is wearing one of my joggers and a t-shirt with the Guns N’ Roses logo on it. The dark attire making him look paler and more fragile than ever. 

“Sorry,” I say to him, while I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. “But, I though you will be better here, where Kreacher and Winky can both watch over you, while I am out,” I say to him, trying not to stutter. 

He looks so adorable in my clothes and I can’t help but feel annoyingly happy. 

“Is master Draco wanting dinner?” Winky ask him, a smile threatening to split her face in two. “Is master Draco up to eat his midnight specialty?” Winky ask him, her eyes shinning with hope. 

“Don’t you worry, pretty,” Draco reassure her. “I am up to whatever Potter is eating?” And he plops down by my side. “Say Potter,” he stares at me seriously. “Why I feel like if the Night Bus has run over me a couple of times?” his eyes are accusing me. 

“Actually, I don’t have the faintest clue,” I say, grabbing a piece of bread and bitting it. 

“And why is Granger at our home?” Draco asks, looking at Hermione straight in the eye. “And she brings a visit.” 

“Actually, Mister Malfoy I am no visit,” Healer Mason says seriously. “I am Healer and I have been in charge of your case since a few days ago.” 

Draco stop eating all together and I am getting etreamly pissed. 

“Why?” he asks. “I still have to get a potion wrong,” he says. 

“I don’t know, love,” I say to him, looking ahead of us. “But, Parkinson and I found you in a puddle of your own blood a few days ago and there were a hole in your wards.” 

“Are you fucking with me?” he asks me, his hand leeting go of the piece of cheese he has picked up. “The only people that can actually manage to disentangle my wards are you and fucking Dumbledore,” he says and then, he is pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Not the ones that are surrounding the house, Draco.” I swallow hard, because I know this is not over. “The ones in the yard were sporting a hole. A dog could walk inside the property.” Suddenly Draco left all his weight fall on me and immediately I hold him tight against me. “You ok?” 

But Draco just shake his head. 

“There was a fucking cat I let inside the house, because astray muggles cat are supposed to be safe,” he says. “It was sporting a bleeding paw and I just… I just thought…” 

And I know where he is going. 

Remus. 

“Were you working on something dangerous, Mr. Malfoy?” Smart-Healer ask him softly. 

“Maybe,” he mumbles, but he is still not lifting his body. So, I hold him against my side, a bit lost in the past. 

“I am going to need to know the truth in order to help you,” she says, reaching over the table to take his hand. 

But Draco saw the movement and his hand moves to mine. 

“I cannot say anything about what I was working in,” he says seriously. “Father, shut the fuck up a moment please!” it is almost a moan. “Harry, make him shut up.” 

Draco moves furiously between my arms until his face is buried in the crook of my neck. 

“I am sorry, love,” I try to console him to the best of my abilities, but I feel strangely useless right now. “But I cannot make him go away.” 

“Why not?” Draco is almost crying between my arms. “This is our place,” he says with his voice broken. “As much as my own country house is yours. So, why cannot you make him go away? You are Harry Potter,” he whispers against my throat. 

“I cannot make him go away, because whomever cursed you, place them inside your head,” I whisper to him. “I think we are gonna have to leave with them for a while until you are all better.” 

“They hate me,” he whispers back, a sob scaping his lips. 

“You have to calm him down, Mr. Potter,” Healer Mason tell me, standing up and walking to us. “This is not good for his brain.” 

“What do you remember from that day, Draco?” I ask him, engulfing him with my arms. 

“We will see ourselves out, Harry,” Hermione says, squeezing my hand with her, softly. “If you follow me Healer Mason, I will show you were is the Floo,” she says softly. 

“Granger,” Draco calls her, his face buried in my neck. “Did I finished the last project?” he ask her with sadness tinting his voice. 

“Don’t worry about it, Draco,” she says and I can see a smile adorning her lips. “I will talk with your superior about everything, and I am pretty sure she will be happy to know you are actually out of hospital,” she pauses. “Do you need me to take something to her?” she asks, her brown eyes searching Draco’s body. 

“I wasn’t finished,” he says. “I just… Forgget.” He says, but I can feel his breathing slowing.

“Ok,” Hermione says. “We will let you in peace now,” Hermione says, taking the healer’s arm and almost dragging her out of the room. 

It is like if she is trying to keep her away from Draco’s vulnerability. Even if Draco isn’t actually a kind of invalid or something, I am pretty sure Hermione was trying to preserve his privacy. And I am glad to have her here, because, Draco has always been like this. Lithe, all hardlines… but, fragile. And so fucking strong and beautiful at the same time. 

“What do you remember from that day, Draco?” tightening my hold in him, without making him suffocated. 

“I just… I don’t know,” he says, his hands clutching hard at my shirt. “I was just… Something about a case,” he mumbles brokenly. “A Potion or a cream?” he asks to the nothingness. “I don’t know really. I just remember needing a knife, a copper one. And then, there were my parents telling me how to make our family better.” 

“But you are the best there is in the world, Draco,” I say, closing my eyes and trying to activate all the charms this penthouse holds. “And they knew that. Didn’t they?” 

I feel him nod his head yes, but his hands are still clutching at my shirt hard. 

“That’s the part that makes no sense at all,” he says breathing deeply, trying to swallow his own sobs. “They knew what I did at the end,” he says, his voice wet with unshed tears. “They knew about what I did. That’s the only reason why they…” 

And just like the same way the sun lights the earth; I can see Draco’s brain moving fast. 

“But my parents went missing,” he whispers against my chest. “My parents went missing after the trials. A years ago,” he says with strain. 

“They were a hallucination,” I whisper shily to him, not wanting to burst his bubble of happiness. “And I am sorry that whoever made this to you is opening wounds that were healing somewhat, somehow.” I caress his hair with my bare hands, knowing he is like a big white cat, loving to have people play with his hair. 

“It is not your fault, Harry,” he says, his voice raspy and tired. “We chose what we wanted to do. My parents chose what they wanted for themselves and even if this pains me, I know what the real world is like,” he says seriously, his stony words braking my heart for this man. “And I did choose myself.” 

“You chose me,” I say to him. 

“I chose to live in a peaceful world, and have my friends alive too,” he pauses. And I know he is remembering Crabbe. “Even if I couldn’t save them all, even if I had to torture others,” he says brokenly. “I chose you and the way you always try to do justice to others. Because is better to live in a world where you have this person speaking his voice to make a better world, then have someone who will never listen, someone that will just punished, for sins that weren’t even yours,” he says between sobs. “And I am glad my chose over my parents, Harry.” 

“I am sorry, Draco,” I try to comfort him again, but my own tears are threatening to scape my eyes, while I try to swallow a heavy sob stuck in my throat. 

“Don’t be, Harry,” he says to me. “I will choose you again, over and over again,” he says softly. His voice spiked with sleepiness. 

“I promise you I will make things better,” I say in a wet, broken whisper that left me gasping for air and light. 

But, empty words cannot work when people knows the truth and the darkness that comes with it. So, I let Draco cry himself asleep in my arms, while feeling my heart shattering in a thousand pieces with every tear that fall from his beautiful eyes. 

“I trust you, Harry,” he whispers that words one last time against my chest and I take a deep breathe, vowing I will move earth and heaven if I have to in order to make Draco happy again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you all think by letting kuddos and comments. 
> 
> Comments makes my days all shinny and better.


	9. A Thousan Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is a short chap but here it is... Update! Hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> You can follow me in my Instagram account @GreeneySilvery I will follow back.

DRACO

I wake up with my head on Harry chest and slowly I start to pull away, trying not to wake him up desperately and wishing that we were most then just friends. I sit cross legged in the mattress and watching sleep. He has grown up into a fine man, with broad shoulder and square jaw and he is handsome as hell.

Slowly I crawl out of the bed and I start to make my way downstair where I know is the kitchen.

“You are not a house elf to be cooking, Draco,” I hear my mother says in that fondly way she talks with. “You can always order Potter’s wretched elf to make the food.

I roll my eyes.

 _They are not real,_ I say to myself.

“Who is not real, boy?” I hear my father’s voice, but I am decided to keep walking forward.

 _Don´t pay them any mind,_ I say to myself. _Harry himself told you they are not real._

“But who says we are not your real parents?” my mother ask me in that lovely way she does when she is talking to the High Ladies of London, a stupid group of old witches that gather together to gossip.

“Harry did,” I say seriously.

“Mr. Potter is not wiser than a sniffler,” my father says with a sneer. “Just look at this place, so horrendous.”

I stop in my tracks.

“Well, if you hadn’t notice yet father,” I say and I know venom is dripping from my words. “I prefer to be here than in the mannor. Or in my country house, which you think is rotten and unmalfoy, with its ugly rug. Or are you that old and blind that you cannot see?”

Father scoffs.

“And I really don’t understand why you want to live in such a poor place,” he says, like if he is scolding me.

“Because you tarnished our home with blood of wizards,” I shout at him. “And you want to know something, pureblood or not, they were actually part of your family. I hadn’t forgot that you and Xenophilus Lovegood are brothers-in-law because Pandora Malfoy was part of this family too. I hadn’t forgot how lovely she was towards me the first time I met her. She was a better witch than you, but she raised her kid to be better. And I hadn’t forgot that Xenophilus is as pureblooded as you are, and so are the Weasleys. And they are your family too, aren’t they?” I can feel the blood rushing to my face. “You just had one son because Mother couldn’t conceive other. I hadn’t forgot about Astra, the one that should be my sister,” I lower my voice because I can hear it echoing inside the house. “We are the ones who are impure. If it weren’t for magic, we wouldn’t even be alive. Astra was born as a squib and she didn’t survive because a so bad genetic can just kill a child on its own. And even if you too come from a really ancient house and other nonsenses you are so happy to believe and babble about, I am still not the most powerful wizard in the world. And neither was Voldemort,” I am angry. Angry. Angry. “He was a halfblood, his father was a moodblood, and still you cowered under his gaze and if he told you to suck his cock you willingly would do it. So, don’t ever come to me and talk about bullshit you really don’t understand,” I take a deep breathe and I close my eyes, trying to collect myself. 

“Is master Draco alright,” I hear Winky talking to me and I open my eyes, slowly.

“I am alright, pretty,” I tell to her and she smiles at me. “We need go shopping something fluffier for you to wear,” I say to her watching how her tutu is not anymore that upright. “And something for this hellish winter ahead of us.”

“Master is really good to Winky,” she says and she hugs my leg and I caress her head. Her hair black and wavy.

“And a few hairbows for your hair,” I say to her.

Her eyes widens and suddenly I find myself being guiding by my hand by Winky.

“Fraternizing with lowers beings then you, Draco,” I stop again, making Winky stops as well.

She looks up at me and I need to stop myself from hurting as tears gathers in my eyes.

“The only lesser being I see around is you, Father,” my teeth are gritted so hard that I can feel the muscles clenching in my jaw. “Because if being cold and cruel and selfish is what makes you better, then I prefer being lesser.”

“Malfoys are never lesser,” Lucius says to me, furiously. “But your behavious is atrocious Draco. You wear your heart in your hands, like fucking Gryffindor. You try to be as good as a fucking Hufflepuff, spying us to take that information to Dumbledore nonetheless. Betraying your family.”

“Because I had a murdered as a Father!” I turn around and my breathe start to hitch. “And if the dark lord asked my father for him to kill his own son, he surely would. Because he left his family behind in order to become a murder, a torturer. Who gave his heir a fucking magic strengthening potion to make his child a fucking weapon in the middle of a war?” I feel my body trembling and my magic crackling around me. “Who made his son more appealing at the eyes of an uncaring, heartless snake whom was thirsty of blood?” I didn’t even remember taking so much steeps towards my father. “Who else would watch his son being raped in front of his face while laughing at the same time with his others peers because it was expected of him?” My hands close in a fist. “Answer me!”

The vase at the foot of the rest explodes and Winky disappear to somewhere.

“I did it to win his favor,” my father says in a heaty whisper.

“Get out of my house,” I close my eyes and I redirect my magic to him, whipping him out of my house together with my mother. The burst of energy making me feel dizzy and disoriented immediately.

“Draco,” I can hear Harry voice and the heavy noise his feet make when he runs. And I let that noise comfort me. “Hey,” I can hear his voice but my eyes are closed while I try to collect strength and composure to look at him.

“I just wanted to cook breakfast for the both of us,” I say to him in a weak whisper.

“It’s ok, the house is not burning,” he says to me and then, I can feel his callous finger caressing my chin and lifting my face slow. “Shit, you are bleeding,” he says and I can see concern dancing in his green eyes.

“Why did we wake up in the same bed?” I ask, feeling lightheaded. Stupid courage floating back at me.

“Because I do care about you,” he says softly, and something soft start to dab against my nose. “And I still love you.”

“I have been in love with you for a long time, did you know?” I feel drunk for some reason ad I cannot help myself. I can’t stop talking. “But the night I came to tell you about it, you were telling Ginevra Weasley how you would like for you two to be together, and then you went and asked me out in a date. I didn’t want for people to believe I help you to cheat on her.”

A laugh scape Harry’s lips.

“For a potion prodigy, you are quite stupid when it is about relationships,” he says going down to my jaw. “But I don’t know any better either.” He says, and I can feel myself being lifted up between strong arms. My head falling to broad muscled shoulders. “I wanted to ask you out, and I was practicing what I was about to say with Ginny, though we shouldn’t do it in my office,” I feel myself being put down in a soft bed and it smell like Harry and Draco and I want to burry myself in the smell, the warm… “Would you have said yes back there, if you hadn’t walk in my rehearsal with Ginny.”

“I would have said yes a thousand times,” I mumble feeling heavy and weak. “Because I have been in love with you for a long time,” my words are slurring and I am not really sure they come out so well.

“Don’t you worry, Draco,” A warm hand is playing with my hair, lulling me to sleep. “You will get better soon and then I will be able to take you in a thousand dates, so I can hear you say yes to me a thousand times.”

The words sound so far and so distant but they are warm, just like Harry. And I surrender to whatever is awaiting for me at the other side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Left comments and kuddos they make my day all better, and I love to know what you think about this cahpter.


	10. Holds Inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back, yes... Not updating this fast and I am not going to give an excuse, because there's none. 
> 
> But, I hope you can enjoy this chapter. It brakes my heart to wrote this, but yes... I cannot hide this facts anymore. 
> 
> Here's the chapter.

HARRY

“How is he?” I ask Smart-Healer, while I see her hand moving over the unconscious body of my… Friend.

“He is good for now, Mr. Potter,” she says to me, her wand casting softly. “But we are going to have to wait for when he is awake,” she says, moving her wand over Draco’s head. “You said his magic tried to attack his hallucinations-like parents,” she mumbles, looking with sorrow at Draco.

“He did,” I state, leaning forward in the hospital chair. My hands messing my hair. “When is he going to wake?” I ask her, feeling desperate.

“I cannot say a date, Mr. Potter,” she says, taking her glasses out of her face, and arranging them in the pockets of her sky-blue robes. “This,” and a hologram of Draco’s brains appear in front of me. “I had never seen something like this,” and at least she is being honest. “I don’t know what kind of repercussions this is going to cause in the long run,” she let her hands fall on my shoulder. “I didn’t believe you back there when you showed me how much you and Mr. Malfoy were involved one with the other, but I can see that you care a great deal for the other,” her eyes are searching me for something, but I don’t linger to much looking at her, not when Draco is the one lying unconscious in this bed. “I will contact Healer Morris, he is a specialist of magical brain damaged,” she says. “You just have to fill this forms, Mr. Potter. She is pitying me, but I don’t care. As long as that can bring someone here to help the blond, I don’t mind. They can look at me as they want, I don’t care about their opinions.

I just care about one of those right now, and that person isn’t here.

I nod and I quickly read the forms and start to fill it with knowledge of private things, secrets Draco and I have been exchanging over expensive bottles or whines, because God forbid the blond ever had anything less then the Jacky Trucht he loves a lot. He has an allergy to aconite, even if he is a potion master, he is always carrying a bessoir with him when he is to work with those. Chlorine odor cause him allergies too, and so I write all this in the form.

Forty minutes latter, I note watching down to my wristwatch. 

“I am going to do everything in my power to make you all better, again,” I say in the silent room, pushing soft white locks of hair out of his forehead. “You just have to hang on a bit, ok?”

A Patronus comes barreling in the room. Hermione’s voice comes out of it in her usual fast, no time to breathe, voice.

“Parkinson found Draco’s Parents,” Hermione’s voice is out, like she has been running. “I need a gathering ASAP.”

The Patronus disappear in a burst of light-blue glittering bubble and I feel cold creeping up my spine. This is not good. Until I hear the commotion outside the room, healers rushing someone to the isolation room. The same room Draco was in when Parkinson and I found him the first time. Aurors following the healers, restraining someone physically.

“The use of magic can damage her,” the healer in charge yell over the yelping of the patient. “Or her brain,” she yells. “I need healer Mason.”

“Please, Dumbledore, help me,” she pleads to the nothing.

Dumbledore is as dead as he can be. He has been for a long time now. Someone obscures my view of the outside and a wizard with salt and pepper hair smiles at me, clutching a parchment tight against his chest.

“Are you Mr. Potter?” he asks, politely. His accent is a bit off. I nod softly, and once he steeps inside; I close the door with my magic. “I am healer Morris,” he says softly, looking at Draco.

“Harry,” I stand up and extend my hand in a polite manner, as Hermione taught me. “Harry Potter.”

I can see the surprise in his face, which is weird.

“Then, he must be Mr. Malfoy,” he says, walking towards the unconscious blond.

“He is,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Healer Mason notifies me about his unusual… situation.” He says doubting, then looking at his chart.

“What unusual situation are you talking about?” I ask him.

“Someone tampered with his magical core,” he says, moving his wand over the parchment. “It says so in here.”

And the section where that part is written lights up in a soft brown color.

“I wasn’t aware of that,” I say, because I am still holding a form.

“Don’t worry,” he says softly. “Sometimes people just forget a lot of things they had to overcome, but we are healer, we cannot overlook this kind of things. It can cause someone’s dead,” he says, writing something else. “I need to know a few things though, because this is not going to be easy for him,” he says, concern dancing in his features.

I nod again, breathing through my nose. I need to trust this guy, in order for Draco to be better again. So, he can snarks at me for my commoner manners in the table or my horrendous choices in robes… Or tastes in general.

“I will answer whatever it is you want to know,” I say to him softly, trying my best to keep my cool.

“You live with him, so…” he hasn’t started when I feel the need to stop him.

“How do you know that?” I ask him. This scam is even new for me. How fucking Saint Mungo’s can be aware of that?

“It’s listed in here,” he says. “Were you not aware?”

Since when? But I shut my mouth. I need to answer this at the best of my abilities.

“We talked about it, but I have been away in cases recently,” I say, knowing for a fact that no one in the wizarding world calls for these things. “I just came back a few days ago.”

But, until a few days, Luna Lovegood and Pansy Parkinson were listed as his medical contacts. Something is not adding up.

“Has he any psychological scar?” he asks, softly, his wand resting on the table.

“Well, we survived a war,” I answer him. “Draco had sessions with a mind healer once a week,” I say to him. “Maybe, he has some, but he is strong.”

He nods softly.

“Thanks,” he says, letting the parchment falls to the table.

“You don’t need to know anything else?” I ask him, not believing him at all.

“Yes,” he says, softly. My magic hums inside my veins, he is not a threat. “You can stay, so you can see what really happened to him,” he takes his robes out and let it in the bed foot. “This is not common, your own magic attacking you, but then again, most people haven’t been hit for whatever he had.”

Which I am assuming it is a lot. Draco is a survivor after all. I don’t know everything, but when we were back, when everything ended, he was still reluctant to let people touch him, he couldn’t even sleep in the same room with other without throwing wards, renewables wards, around his bed. He would curse even the slight shadow looming over his shoulder.

“Ok, Mister Potter,” he says, conjuring a low chair. “I know you are really powerful if the tales are something to go by, but please, refrain from interfering.”

“If you hurt him, I am going to make your life a living hell,” I say to him in a dark whisper. I smile at him. “No pressure, healer Morris. I am sure you know what you have to do to help him.”

“I hope so,” he says softly, not paying any attention to my threats. He isn’t peeing his pants like some other healer I know. He takes his wand in both hands, casting the spell with soft, long practiced movements.

 _Healing spells requires finesse, Harry,_ Draco’s voice is echoing in my head right now.

“This is his brain,” he says, but there is something off. The healers sighs, loudly. “Is he a master in occlumency?” he asks me, still moving his wand and making the 3D like image move with it.

“He is, since a young age,” I say to him.

Under a crazy woman too. He had to excel, there were nothing left for him, except excellence. Lucius wouldn’t take anything else. Bellatrix probably might rape his mind if he wasn’t the best.

Voldemort beat them all to that, I am sure of it. He terrorized the hell out of Draco.

“Ok, I will have to tread carefully here,” he says, casting again. “This are his walls,” he says, pointing something with his wand. “This is a variation of Legilimens, but less invasive and more amicable with the science purpose of helping the patient.” I can see his walls, they are that… Transparent walls. Until there is a hole in them, a tiny little hole, that is clearing the fog in the walls. A few memories passing fast in front of our eyes, the sounds indistinctive. Until that lot of layers… Is a circuit. It is like a circuit.

“Is this his brain?” I ask the healer, still ot believing it. A huge, bright net is here.

“Even if he is unconscious, his brain is processing information,” the healer says, while mapping something with his finger. “He is quite impressive,” awe sipping in his voice. “Really impressive,” a little smile is painted in his lips.

Draco is a genius, after all.

“He is,” I whisper more to me, then him.

“Here it is,” he says, pointing to a few places where the net is not broken, most likely… unraveling. Not whining like the others parts, dim, dirty. I don’t like this. “We are going to see what he is processing right now, Mr. Potter,” he says softly. “I am going to need for you to talk to him, about anything.”

I nod softly.

“Do you remember the first time you made paint the living room walls?” I ask him, looking to the bright net that is his brain. Nothing happens. Why? “I remember you not being happy about Kreacher but you were smiling, your face had little spots of paint here,” I touch his cheeks.

“Do that again,” the healers say and I poke Draco in his other cheek.

“You had little spots of paint all over your face and hands,” I say to him. “I miss you,” and I forget for a moment that a healer is here with us. I lean in and I left a kiss in his pale face. “I miss you a lot. Chatting with you about work, and listen to your rantings about my poor taste in clothes and in life in general. I miss having you make me taste a lot of wines, from I cannot say everything, apart from when they were red or white. Mostly I miss your hugs,” I say to him. I caress his forehead, pushing back white hair. “I miss your cold feet against my legs in the morning.” Sadness is winning now. “You just will have to wake up soon. Winky miss you too, a lot,” I say to him. “We love you.”

I can see the 3D image going off and I lift my eyes to meet with the healer’s warm ones.

“I think there are bad news, Mister Potter,” he says, looking at Draco. He sighs again, a tire sounds this time. “I am pretty sure this is not what you wanted to listen when I first came in, and I am going to be honest, I wasn’t expecting this either,” he says, I look him in the eye.

“I am listening, Healer Morris,” my magic is coiling painfully inside my body.

“His neural connections react really good to light,” he says softly. “It is reacting to the touch in general, and that is really good,” the healer looks down and he shakes his head slowly. He pauses, maybe rearranging his ideas. “I am pretty sure his mind is intact. I saw glimpses of his childhood, teenage years and recent ones, if a dark room is something to go by,” he says, then he is biting inside of his cheek. “But he is not really reacting to the sound around him,” he says. “His neuronal net didn’t light up when you started talking, but when you touched him, it was like seeing a blinding sun,” he says softly. “Whatever he was processing when I first casted the spell wasn’t related to the sound inside the room. I think it was processing your touch and the magical sources that might be crashing against his brain.”

“What do you mean by all this?” I ask him.

“I think, Mr. Malfoy lost his hearing when the magic attacked the intruders planted inside his head,” he says softly. “We don’t know what spell he used to attacked them, it could be whatever, but whatever usually includes maim and…”

“Kill,” I say for him, not fearing that word.

He nods softly, watching me.

“I will conduct a last exam when he wakes up, but… I am pretty sure he cannot hear anymore,” he says softly, then he pats my shoulder. “I am sorry Mr. Potter,” he says, taking his coat in his hands.

I lean into Draco, taking his hand into mine.

“You are strong. I know we can get through this, together,” and I lay down by his side, preparing myself for the worst. Because, for the next few days, maybe I will have to love for the both of us.

But whatever it takes, my sun will rise soon. I will make sure of that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Left comments and kuddos, they make my day/night all better!


	11. Close My Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco needs a hug, Harry is there to give him all he needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In time. 
> 
> I hope you can enjoy this chapter.

I watch Draco sitting slowly in the hospital bed. His skin is pale, the bags under his eyes are gone and, even if he hadn’t been up and about for much time, his cheeks are growing rosy, just like his plush lips.

“Are you ready to go home?” I ask him, standing in his range of sight. I speak slowly deliberate.

Draco arch a slender, golden eyebrow at me.

_Do you think me stupid enough to be less then adept at lips-reading, Potter?_

Those are the words that forms in the air. Golden letters glowing softly against the white wall of Saint Mungo’s.

I sit down at the bed’s foot and let my hand descend to his knee. I gaze up to Draco, remembering that now he needs to see my lips to understand, or cast a spell so the golden letter can appear above my head for him to read.

A week. We have been here a week. Hermione and Parkinson were a huge help this last days, helping me to contact with different physicians, healers and what-not to help Draco to find his feet in this new journey. I am still not sure about the life outside here, but I want to be confident he will be all good.

The golden letter re-arranges themselves until a new phrase is settle nicely in the air: _I am starting a new potion for this silly-thingy-thing once we get home._

I smile at Draco, remembering good times, when Draco started to say: Silly-thingy-thing. He was afraid to mention Voldemort back there, his mark would burn until screams were rip from his very soul. Draco started calling him: Silly-Thingy-Thing.

“Draco,” I am resolute to keep Draco home for the next seven days, resting and learning news ways of communication. I am learning sign language with him, too. I have been here with him for every session, learning slowly how to move my hands, practicing with Draco in silence. Watching him smile proudly whenever he was able to form a coherent sentence with his hands, his eyes ablaze with the thrill of knowledge conquered.

 _I am not going into the Ministry just yet, Harry,_ the letters are glowing softly. Draco smiles at me and he hand cups my cheeks. We stare at each other for a few moments, then the letters begin to form a new phrase. _But, I am going to do the groceries’ shopping._ The letters fade completely, and then… _I demand for Burritos night be tonight._

Damn.

“Really?” I ask him deadpan. “And who, pray tell, is going to cook those burritos?” I arch my eyebrow trying my best imitation of Draco Malfoy.

A sound scapes Draco’s throat and I feel happy. Healer Morries said, his impairment to hear wasn’t a real thing to keep his voice for flowing freely. It was most likely Draco couldn’t hear himself and so, he tried his best not to use his voice.

 _You,_ the letters change colors. They are glowing a playful violet. _That is our deal, Potter. I play prince charming; you play smitten husband. End of the discussion._

“How can my role as smitten husband is related to cooking burritos?” I ask him, patiently waiting for Smart-Healer and Brain-Healer to arrive, so I can bring my not-yet-boyfriend home.

 _Because,_ the letters forms and fades. I can see hesitation inside his eyes, his posture is all wrong and he is subtlety nibbing his lower lip. _That’s what my dad used to do for my mom._

Draco lowers his face. I can see his cheeks turning a shade of hot pink. I take his hand with mine, caressing little circles in his soft, flawless, skin. I scoot up, inching myself closer to him, until there’s barely any distance between us.

“Draco, it is ok…” And I remember a second too late, that he cannot hear me.

And neither I am in his sight range.

Slowly, I let my hand travels to his face, taking his chin with my dominant hand. The movement is obliging him to lift his face and the sight that welcomes me is one I want to burn in my memory forever.

“Draco,” I swallow, because right now, the only person that exist is Draco. And my only reason to exist is to wipe away his fears, until he gains confidence enough to feel good about opening his heart this way… To me. “It is ok. They loved each other. And if maybe we are not there yet, I am sure we will be… In time.”

I cannot forget about the damn time. I don’t want to make feel like if he needs to rush things. I am not going to dump him, or think less of him just because of his, well-guarded, feelings. Rather, I feel honored to be here right now.

 _And if not?_ The letters are glowing now, a shade of sad and dull grey.

“And if not, then we will remain friends. And I will take you out to dates as friends until you fall in love with my marvelous sense of fashion and my skills to pick the most fancies restaurants in Europe,” I say to him, playing dumb. Smitten husband.

And… Yes.

There’s that noise again. He is laughing, and it is a really, really soft and low noise. Nonetheless, I am elated to hear it again.

 _You are the worst;_ the glowing letters are painted like a rainbow.

The door opens slowly and both healers walk into the room. Healer Mason and Healer Morris are now inside the bedroom, their robes gracefully glued to their bodies. But, while Smart-Healer seems happy, Brain-Healer seems doubtful.

Why?

“How are you feeling today, Draco?” she asks sweetly.

For some odd reason, Draco leans in on me, his lips brushing my cheek softly.

New letter glow red in the middle of the room.

 _I cannot wait to go back home. I will develop a new potion so this hospital smell less like some kind of rotten apothecary,_ he cross his arms over his chest.

“We will appreciate that very much, Mr. Malfoy,” she says nodding slowly. “Now the juicy details,” she says with mirth dancing inside her eyes. “First, you aren’t permitted to brew potions in the next seven days…”

But, the blazing-red of new letters are blinding enough for Smart-Healer to shut up.

 _Say who?_ Draco arch a perfect eyebrow.

I glance back a Smart-Healer. She is a bit put out by this rebellious display of wills.

“I am bedridden you, Mr. Malfoy,” she says slowly. “It may seem like something stupid for you, but your magic just doesn’t manage to severed the neural net on your brain, but connection that exist between your ear drums and your brain as well,” she crosses her arms over her chest. “You can get a dizzy spell any moment, because of the severed connection, it will take a while for your space-sense to be back to normal,” her eyes are blazing with rage.

Why?

 _So, I got dizzy spells, so what?_ Draco is really defying her now.

It’s weird. He is on edge right now, his body is tense, his eyebrows are drawn together, his jaw is clenching so hard is a miracle he hadn’t manage to dislodge a tooth with that amount of pressure he is applying. 

“You are to rest,” she says softly, through greeted teeth. “You are not dying!” she is red in the face. “You survived a war and Mr. Potter here has gone to lengthy shit to make sure you are really good.”

Draco smirk, contently, at Smart-Healer.

 _Yes, healer Mason,_ the letters are a soft baby blue now. _I will keep myself close to bed._ An innocent smile appearing in his lips.

Brain-Healer steps closer to Draco, in his range of sight. He is all relaxed and looking down at Draco with a blank expression.

“Draco, this is the second time your own magic attack a part of your body that is related to one of your senses,” he says, pressing his palms to the bed rail. “The first time it was your vocal cords, now, your magic attacked your hearing,” he says, softly. “This is utterly shocking for me,” he says slowly, but it is not about pity. He is actually, mussing out loud. “Explain this to me.”

Draco lean his cheek on my shoulder and I can see his long lashes shinning gold.

 _Harry,_ the letters are soft and dull. _Do you remember Malfoy mannor and greyback?_

There’s no fucking way in hell I can forget about that night. Draco was spying with Severus for that moment. Days after we found the cup of Hufflepuff. It was chaos and Voldemort were as angry as always, but worst. He wasn’t acting reasonably and a quarter of his Death Eater ended dead in a whim of their master.

But, what marked me for ever was when I learned, via Snape, that Voldemort tried to ravage Draco’s mind searching for things about me. It is true that Draco and I were no friends back in our first years. Coming sixth, the blond was desperate enough to switch sides and become a spy for us. He didn’t know a lot about me, but he knew about my Patronus.

Voldemort didn’t and a little glimpse at that scene was enough for him to demand to know. But, Draco denied it softly, saying all of them had to learn the basics of the charm back there.

Voldemort decided that Draco could be a threat for the dementor, so he decided to ravaged his mind. Snape said that Draco nearly made it, but he didn’t know how. But, when Voldemort came back to his sense, his mouth was bleeding, that earned Draco a back hand that left him with the same outcome. A bloodiest mouth.

 _It is a variant of occlumency,_ the letters form themselves very slowly. _I am just trying to keep my mind intact._

“Then, why not go for your eyes?” brain-healer asks, like if this is not a big deal.

“How can you ask that to a child?” Healer Mason says offended in behalf of Draco. “He survived a war, his parents maybe with whatever he is having,” she says, her face growing red. “Don’t you feel the bit sorry for him?”

I swear mentally, because, even if Draco didn’t catch a thing about his parents, and I don’t want for him to know this here, he was able to read the last part.

 _I don’t need your pity, Healer Mason,_ the letters are a painted with brilliant silver.

What a weird color to feel offended over something.

Healer Morris touches Draco’s shoulder softly.

“Why didn’t you go for your sight?” he asks again, contemplating Draco’s face.

Draco leans on me again and I hold him close to my chest. His magic is settling around him. And I breathe in, trying not to snap at the healers in the room.

 _Because,_ the letters are lazily forming. I can perceive Draco’s own hesitation in the air. His weight is resting on my own body, his hands are bunching the fabric that covers his body from the cold. His eyes are glazing slowly. Unshed tears. _I love my parents,_ the letters fade. _Seeing them gives me hopes that they are somewhere, out there._ A noise of pain left his lips. Can an emotion hurt someone physically? Now I know that is possible. _Even if this is a curse, I can always turn it into a blessing,_ he swallows loudly. _I can pretend they are ghost that comes to visit me. They will smile, they will touch me, and their words wouldn’t affect me like the first time I jumped out a window._ His hand finds mine and I squeeze back. _I am going to see them whenever they want to come back to my mind,_ the letters vanished and new ones formed. A new color glowing inn the room. _And I will cherish their littles smiles at me. Because my parents can be a lot of things, but I refuse to believe they don’t love me. Because they do._

Draco turn his head, hiding his face in the crook of my neck. I hold him against me, feeling how my shirt is starting so soak, I am pretty sure, with tears.

“I will ask you both to live us alone for a moment,” I ask them.

“I will pre-scribe him with a few potions to help with his dizziness,” Smart-Healers says, and the both physicians left the room. The door closing once they are gone.

“Draco,” I call him softly.

 _Thank you, Harry,_ are the only words that keeps glowing a soft sky-blue in the room.

I hold him against me, as I comb through his hair. His body relaxing under my touch.

I think long about the things Draco said, writte, whatever. And I feel angry, and then sad. Am I enough to heal the broken heart of this beautiful angel? Am I selfsih for wishing I will be enough to make Draco smile day after day? 

"I will love you forever," I whisper to him once I made my mind. "It doesn't matter if you don't love me back, Draco. I will devote my heart to you." I kiss his temple, clossing my eyes momentarily, caressing the soft locks of hair. "And maybe, one day, my love will be enough to heal you. One day." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheers! Goodnight. I am off to bed.


	12. Eyes Burning Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco get to see his parents again.  
> Harry is there to take his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I have been struggling a lot with dark thoughts, and here it is this new chapter.

I am pacing Draco’s room, still waiting for the healers to give us a clear. I am growing anxious, being trapped in this little, white, room. I stop momentarily just to watch Draco peacefully asleep in the mattress. 

The door opens and Hermione’s head peak from it. She looks at Draco and then, her eyes sets on me. Her face is set blankly and her hands are gripping the door so hard, her knuckles are turning white.

“Hey, Mione,” I cross the distance between us, while Hermione enters the room.

The door closing softly behind her.

“Is he ok?” she asks me, waving her wand this way and that.

“He is just sleeping,” I say to her. “He has been tired and I know the thing about his magic attacking a part of his own brain it’s taking its toll in him.” I sigh. “How are his parents?” I ask her.

She bites her lip and I know this is not going to be all flowers and sunshine.

“Can you awake him, please, Harry?” she asks, taking a sit in the chair nearby the door.

I nod softly, walking over to the bed, preparing myself for whatever is it to come. I can feel my own muscles tensing, my anxiousness skyrocketing. I shake Draco gently, since talking to him is not an option anymore. This is going to be our ritual for the seeable future.

I let my magic wander out of my own body, my tight leash on it diminishing, while I keep shaking the blond awake. Bright, emerald tendrils of magic enveloping softly the body under me.

God, he is so beautiful while sleeping and I hate waking him up.

But then, sleepy, dull eyes are looking at me. The light is start to filling them up, until his eyes remind of stars of old tales. His lips forming a beautiful, somewhat bashful, smile for me to see…

For me to enjoy.

I let go of him, so my hands are in his sight range and I start to move them, trying to convey what Hermione told me.

_We need you._

My movements are slow, as my own brain tries to remember everything we have learned this week. But then again... The geniuses in the room are Draco and Hermione, and yet Hermione has no photographic memory.

Draco on the other hand...

His eyebrows furrow and I'm sure he's waiting. Or maybe he's giving me a bad look. His fingers move smoothly and the words form out of nowhere. No wand.

This is hot as hell, and I can feel my own dick interest in that simple act.

We don't get horny at someone power display I try to chide my stirring member.

However, I have to look towards Hermione so I can calm myself down. Imagining her and Ron having sex work its magic. And that makes me feel slightly ill. That is something I never want to imagine again in my life.

Draco's gaze is on Hermione and a pang of jealousy hit me square on my chest. It is the most uncomfortable I have been in this entire morning. Not even Healer Morris knowing shit I didn’t know is up there.

“Draco,” she speaks softly, sitting down in the bed. I stand up, fearing this contraption might go down under the weight of us. “How are you feeling?” she asks, letting her hand rest over his knee.

The letters in the air are bright and shinning gold.

 _I am feeling good,_ then they vanished. _Thanks for asking._

Hermione smiles sheepishly at him. Her smile isn’t touching her eyes today and I feel utterly concerned about this development. Carefree, knowledgeable, kind Hermione… Trying to keep something horrible for herself. I know this gaze. I know this kind of smile.

This is fourth year all over again.

“Pansy is back in the country,” she says softly.

Draco’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, even if we are in the middle of August. He sits up too fast, and a dizzy spell hits me, making him topple to my side of the bed.

I caught him in my arms, breathing deeply and trying to calm my racing heart. I crush him to my side, combing my hand through his hair, until the blond swats his hand over mine.

 _Stop that,_ the bright letters forms. _Granger have her serious face on._

I let go of him, still hovering closer to him, just in case. His grey eyes are focus solely on Hermione and I know this is not going to be easy.

“We found both of them,” she says, looking straight into Draco’s eyes.

Hope is shinning on his face and I feel a pang of sadness, because I know Hermione better. I know she is withholding information. Information that can make or brake Draco today.

Nonetheless, she keeps talking.

“I talked with the healers, and they said it will do you good to see them both,” she says. “So, you can have… Peace.”

Why is she lying so much today? Maybe not a completely lie, but Hermione is smart. She is being too careful with her wording today, and the fact that she is covering her hesitation with slow talking isn’t lost on me.

 _I want to see them,_ Draco’s words are intense in color and big in length. Maybe, his magic is showing through his own happiness.

I cannot help it but feel dread crawling up my spine.

“Harry,” Hermione says, still looking at Draco’s face. “It will be good if you come with us.”

I just swallow slowly, not wanting to make this hard for her, or stupidly cruel for the blond. Whatever Hermione is covering up, it couldn’t be good.

I nod slowly, helping Draco to get up. He is in my clothes, comfortable, high quality clothes that I never use. Because his house is still being investigated by Aurors and Kinsgley.

Mostly, Kingsley.

Once Draco is up, I help him with his shoes. Converse, he is obsessed with those and I cannot deny anything to him. And when he is ready, I square my shoulders, readying myself for the stormshit to come. I am pretty sure it wouldn’t be nice. I just hope it doesn’t involve dark curses.

I link my hand to Draco’s and he let me have this moment. I still think about not being Gryffindorish of me to lie, or to enjoy this moment, built up just over lies. But I don’t care. I will take whatever it is I can have. Whatever Draco wants to give me.

He uses his free hand to make a symbol and he doesn’t move his hand until I cover his soft fist with my open hand. A symbol of solidarity.

He smiles to me, a sun blind smile. I try to give him one back, but I am not sure I am doing it right. I know Hermione, Draco doesn’t know her. I know Slytherins, and Hermione is playing all Gryffindor on him.

“Com’on,” I say softly, his eyes trained on my lips.

He nods softly and tugs me in Hermione’s direction. She guides us through corridors in Saint Mungo’s until we stop ten minutes later. She stops, but her hand isn’t even close to the handle. She is stalling.

And Draco can feel it.

 _Are they hurt?_ His letters a tart black. Worry sipping on them.

She nods softly, and Draco worries his lips.

 _They are strong. They are Malfoys._ Draco’s letters are a soft white, tinted gold at the edge.

This is Draco having hope and my hear throbs inside my heart for whatever it is to come at him. I squeeze his hands softly with my thumb. A silent gesture of comprehension and companionship.

“I think we should end with this now, Mione,” I say to her, still holding into Draco’s hand softly.

She nods again, opening the door with her wand and a soft Alohomora.

She steps aside and Draco drags me into the room, the light coming alive while the ward ripples around our bodies, casting shades over the bodies laying on a bed. Charms and lights are burning around them.

“I am sorry,” I can hear Hermione, but I know Draco can’t. He wanders over their beds, one at the side of the other. “I am really sorry, Draco.”

And I can hear pain and shame in her voice. This is Hermione, sweet-caring, Hermione. I look at her over my body, and I can see a tear falling down her cheek.

I glaze back at my fake-boyfriend and I see how tight his jaw is set, his small hands balled into fist. His chest falling and rosing at an alarming fast rate. And before I know it, I am by his side, holding him to my chest.

Back against chest.

The magic around them is moving slowly over their bodies, making sparks fly from their skins, shinning an intense shade of green and black. They are utterly pale, their cheeks prominent, the eyes being swallowed by their own skull.

A machiavellian sight: The ends justifies the means.

 _Cruciatus curse,_ he’s letters from in a metallic red blood color, while he looks up at Hermione, behind me.

I gaze at her, feeling utterly floored.

“Nop,” she says, wipping away the tears. Her voice strangled with sadness. “Magical Coma for Exhaustion,” she says it slowly, making every word clear for Draco. “I am sorry, Draco. Really.”

I send my magic toward Hermione, wrapping her around it, while she hugs herself. I am pretty sure her heart is aching like mine, just because we both love this man, in different levels, but with the same affection.

 _How many time?_ His letters are small, tinted a dull pink and orange and yellow.

Like a sunset.

“Thirteen minutes at much,” she says, softly. Her lips moving, her voice cracking, tears falling.

Draco looks straight at me and I caress his cheeks slowly, an almost-there contact. His eyes are glazing over with unshed tears. His face is scrunching up while he tries to breathe. He waves his wand, making flames floats around the room.

He touches his mother’s forehead first, then he touches his, then he touches mine, and his fingertips touches Narcissa’s throat. Magic erupts from her body, dancing around Draco’s body in soft threads of light blue. New threads are coming out of Lucius Malfoy’s body, and a dance of winter colors starts in the room, shinning, lightning, refreshing, accepting… Until it disappears insides Draco’s spine.

And then, the most heart wrenching sound tearing Draco’s throat, a wail of despair, deep sadness… The cry of a wounded soul. Magic leaving his body in an attempt to hurt and maim, crashing against the vases and the windows of the room.

In no time the room is swarmed by healers, Morris and Smart-Haler are here too, and the faces of both are of deep sadness. The both makes all the others healers left the room, with head shakes. Hermione leaving with them.

“Love,” I try to reach too him with my magic. And when he refuses to let me reach him, I try to reach him with my soul. Until he gives in to me, his body holding tightly to me.

“I am all alone now,” his voice is a faint whisper, his voice rough, nails digging in my flesh in a poor attempt to over come his own grieve.

I push at him softly, separating us both a bit, just enough space for him to see my lips.

“You still have me,” I say in the same whisper he used a second ago. “You still have me, Draco. They didn’t leave you alone, they left you with me and Greengrass, and the ever-nosy Parkinson.” I erase the tears track in his face. “You still have us, and we still love you.”

Because I am sure Greengrass will kill for him, and Parkinson… Parkinson will bring hell to whomever did this to him.

And me…

I will tear this world apart until I find who did this to my beautiful angel. I will swallow this world down with me just to see him smile.

I can and I will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this. Left comments and kuddos.  
> I love you all guys! 
> 
> A sad smile is awarded to you all today, because my heart is sad. 
> 
> Hugs,  
> GreeneySilvery


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